


Rules of a Gunfight

by MadeNightwing



Category: RWBY
Genre: Baby Team STRQ shenanigans, F/M, Leo was once a badass, Ozpin playing matchmaker, Vytal Festival (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadeNightwing/pseuds/MadeNightwing
Summary: The Vytal Festival is a chance for budding huntsmen and huntresses to test their mettle against the best in Remnant. For James Ironwood, the unlikely leader of the cobbled together Team JAGD, glory seems a distant prospect when compared with the top students of Vale, Vacuo and Mistral. And yet, he seems to have gained the attention of Beacon's dapper headmaster, though he is unsure if Professor Ozpin is trying to help him win the tournament or simply get him to dance with Team GLRY's glamorous captain at the ball.Behind the scenes, two wars rage in the shadows. The first, a lionhearted adventurer against a cult of assassins. The second, Team STRQ against all of humanity.NOTICE: On hiatus till Vol 8 ends.
Relationships: Glynda Goodwitch/James Ironwood, Raven Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long
Comments: 36
Kudos: 43





	1. Big Iron

‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’ Ozpin rested against the wall for a moment, his eyes taking in the slow transit of Amity Arena across the skyline of Vale.

_‘A magnificent waste of lien is what it is,’ Ozma sniffed from deep inside him. ‘A fresh batch of Atlesian tech-tricks. The old colosseum on Vytal had character. Going there was a chance to see history in action. A pilgrimage, even.’_

‘Perhaps.’ Ozpin thought. And yet he could sense his old soul’s profound admiration for the stadium in the sky. ‘But I believe there is some value in bringing the pilgrimage to the people.’

And this year the people had certainly turned out to greet it. Everyone wanted to see the newest piece of Atlesian technology. A floating arena for a tournament of champions. The skill, the daring, the raw _hope_ of such a gesture genuinely took his breath away.

The walk down to the docks was as good an excuse as he ever got to leave his office and enjoy a pleasant spring day. It was warm enough that he could forsake his jacket and roll up his sleeves, but the cool breeze drifting in from the mountains kept the humidity at a tolerable level. Even his limp had faded a little with the good weather.

And out with the sun came also his students. Many professors were holding outdoor classes, the stentorian tones of Professor Amitavo blending into Professor Rizzo’s melodic cadence. A group of boys were practicing wrestling on the lawns, far enough away from the commons to make it seem like they were uninterested in attention, but just close enough to catch the eyes of passing girls.

And of course, on the grassy knoll, young Raven Branwen sat in her usual perch, an expression of practiced boredom on her face as she surveyed the rest of the campus like they were beneath her.

Oz chuckled a little. Her image of aloofness was somewhat spoiled by her teammate’s head currently resting in her lap, her fingers stroking his messy tangle of golden curls. It was a fine thing in his mind when those with smiles to spare loaned some of them to those without.

And, speaking of those with smiles to spare…

‘Oz!’ A woman’s voice boomed like a cannon shot. ‘You mean old codger!’

He quietly braced his muscles for the impact. It still didn’t help.

Colonel Esmerelda Fang’s arms wrapped around him like a vice. And, despite his best efforts, a tiny squeak popped from his mouth as the air was explosively expelled from his lungs.

‘Esma,’ he choked out. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

At seven feet tall, with a mane of red hair that fell in decidedly unmilitary fashion about her epaulets, the headmistress of Atlas Academy didn’t so much resemble a tank as she did a whole armoured squadron. And yet that had never halted her from expressing her greetings as forcefully as possible.

‘And you,’ Esma said. ‘How long has it been? Two years? Three?’

‘Too long. But what brings you out from your academy?’

She grinned down at him. ‘A longing to see old friends?’

‘Or the promise of an excellent combat tournament?’

‘Well, I brought my best students if you did. And perhaps I might have been mildly interested in challenging you to a friendly spar. Purely an exhibition match of course.’

Despite his bruised ribs, Ozpin couldn’t hold back the smile on his face. It took all types to make the world. And one of those types loved the heat of battle almost as much as she loved her friends.

‘I don’t think it would be fair to our students to steal away their glory,’ Ozpin said. ‘And it would be such a shame for us to demolish your shiny new stadium so soon after completion.’

‘Ha! Well, we shall have to compete with our students then. And unfortunately for you, I’ve brought the best crop I’ve seen in years. STRM, NGHT, KING and JAGD.’

‘I remember STRM and KING,’ Ozpin said. ‘They’d be fourth years by now?’

‘Yes and still going strong,’ Esma said. ‘NGHT are very promising first years. JAGD is a surprising one. A few teams were disbanded at the end of the year. Some quit, some were expelled, we grouped whoever was left into a new team. No one thought they could work well together, but with Gloria Kyle on their team they skyrocketed through the qualification rounds...’

They had passed out of the courtyard and into one of the rambling hedge mazes that dotted Beacon’s grounds. The school council had debated furiously on removing them after one of young Mr. Branwen’s more elaborate practical jokes had seen a visiting dignitary trapped inside with a large dog wearing a Grimm mask. Ozpin had casually vetoed such a proposal, mostly because he enjoyed strolling through the hedges far too much to see them ripped up. But partly because it had been an excellent joke.

Once they were well away from the eyes of newly arrived students, Esma dropped a hand inside her jacket to retrieve a thin data wafer. She slipped it into Ozpin’s hand without a word. As soon as he felt the weigh, Ozpin casually slipped his own hand back into his pocket. An observer might have mistaken the whole thing for the two of them straightening their jackets.

‘Did you hear from Leo?’ Ozpin murmured.

‘Two weeks ago,’ Esma said. ‘He sent his regrets that he was… _tied up_ by his business in Vacuo, but fortunately he was able to escape his commitments and hopes to be here for the festival.’

Ozpin frowned. ‘It’s unfortunate that he was greeted with such hostility. I am surprised that his hosts would break their agreement like that.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he gave them cause to regret it.’ The words were light, but her eyes were dangerously heavy. ‘She’s growing bolder, Oz.’

‘I know.’

‘If she’s identified Leo as one of your agents…’

‘Then his days of field work may come to an end. Just as yours did.’

Esma grunted. ‘But you had Leo to replace me. I don’t suppose you have found any likely candidates?’

Ozpin’s mind flickered to sharp eyed Raven and sharp-tonged Qrow. The natural talent, the keen drive, the fierce loyalty bonding them to their partners. Candidates? Maybe. Maybe some day.

‘Not yet.’

‘Well, this tournament could offer up some names,’ Esma said. ‘Some of these kids have racked up records on training missions that would put a veteran Huntsman to shame. When you see Gloria fight out there you’ll think that Griffon himself has come back for another dance.’

‘It’s never just combat abilities,’ Ozpin reminded her. ‘To fight a battle like this for as long as we must takes more than just strength and power. It requires clarity. Insight. A…’

‘A simple, more honest soul,’ Esma finished with a smile. ‘Yes, Oz. I remember. But sometimes a soul doesn’t get more simple than someone who enjoys beating the snot out of bad people.’

Their laughter echoed through the hedges, joining in the melody of students from all four kingdoms joining together in study and play in the lawns and halls of Beacon.

If Leo was to be simple and honest with himself, he was scared half out of his well-tailored pants.

The crossbow bolt that buried itself into the wood panelling next to his head was proof that his fear was justified. Spinning the launcher on his arm three clicks to the right, he fired off two consecutive shots back along the line of fire. A curse and a grunt were all the validation he needed to leap from his hiding spot and swing at the wooden beam above him. His claws sunk deep and he grinned.

More bolts hit the bushes he’d been hiding in, then chased him up the side of the building as he used the beam to springboard up to the gutter, then onto the roof. He took a moment to look backwards, casually weaving around the remaining projectiles the two figures in black continued to send upwards after him.

‘You know, I realise that we didn’t part on the best of terms back in Vacuo,’ Leo said. ‘But did you really need to chase me halfway across Remnant? Airship tickets are ludicrously expensive during festival season!’

A set of familiar amethyst eyes squinted up at him. ‘You know how sensitive the Sisterhood can be about its guests running off without saying goodbye, Leo. You didn’t even leave a note after you burned down our temple.’

‘Temple? That old pile of bricks.’ Leo shook his head. ‘Just collect the insurance money and build a better one.’

‘Insolent bastard!’ The shorter woman fired another bolt. ‘Six of our sisters have fallen because of you!’

Leo simply plucked the bolt out of midair this time. ‘In my defence, who on Remnant decides it’s a good idea to start a firefight in a dust warehouse?’

Amethyst-Eyes cocked her hip. ‘I don’t know. Who thinks it’s a good idea to stand around and talk when he’s being hunted by assassins?’

_Ah._

Hurling himself backwards across the tiled roofs was a calculated gamble, but Leo was nothing if not a born roulette player. As in, he chucked most of his lien onto a random number and hoped that the wheel spun in his favour before the bouncer threw him out.

And tonight, everything was coming up black.

A salvo of bolts criss-crossed the air where he’d been standing. A quick glance to his left revealed a trio of acrobatic figures loping across the rooftop toward him. It didn’t take a tactical genius to figure that a similar group was approaching from the right.

His first instinct was to go backwards, flee across the street and circle back to the ferries. But if they’d predicted him enough to catch him from both flanks…

Well…the safest direction was clearly forward.

Amethyst and Shorty both yelped as he spun back toward them and fired off the remainder of his fire charges in three quick bursts. Three clicks to the right spun it back onto gravity. He sprang and fired as the first group reached him. The purple detonation bounced his assailants left and right, whilst the momentum carried him in a flat trajectory straight back down the way he’d come.

The first pair were still recovering from his last salvo. He caught Shorty with a front kick that sent her sprawling into the rose bushes he’d been hiding in a few minutes earlier. Amethyst caught his next kick but was forced to let go as he grabbed at her crossbow.

A few wild shots flew over them as they wrestled for the weapon, but clearly none of her compatriots was willing to risk a more daring feat of marksmanship. As soon as his left arm was free again, he aimed up at the rooftops and fired off a wild lightning blast. It didn’t hit anything but that wasn’t what he’d intended. Hooded figures ducked for cover. In the absence of crossbow fire, he bolted.

Amethyst-Eyes drew back to fire at him, quickly sighting along the bolt and pressing the release. When the weapon failed to fire she glanced downwards to find the string draping in two separated strands. She looked up to find Leo waving at her before he turned the corner into another alley. Waving at her with all the claws on his hands extended.

Against her will, a smile played over her lips. ‘Nicely handled…’

‘May I get you anything else, Mr. Lionheart?’

The waitress stood by the door patiently, but Leo could sense the trepidation in her eyes. Not that he could blame her. He’d come careening into the terminal like a thousand Grimm were pursuing him, then barged aboard a train already in motion and waved a credit card around as if it was a magic wand protecting him from being ejected for causing a scene.

Fortunately it had. The train was already behind schedule, so the conductor was willing to accept payment of safety fines in exchange for his late passenger going to a private room at triple the rate and making as little of a fuss as possible.

‘Yes. Whiskey on the rocks? And a sandwich please.’

Her eyes glanced to the bottle of vodka she’d already delivered. Leo’s smile became very tight as she narrowed her gaze. Leo kept his expression neutral and his hands still. With his coat concealing his tail and gloves hiding his claws, there was very little to mark him as a faunus. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have bothered hiding it at all. Sadly, he’d learned the hard way that a suspicious looking human was usually ignored. A suspicious looking faunus on the other hand…

‘I’ll be right back, sir.’ She smiled politely before ducking away.

Leo dropped his smile immediately. Not out of any real annoyance with the waitress, that was almost commonplace for him. He was just feeling far too sore to hold back a pained sigh as he limped back to the mirror.

‘Oh, I’ll go alone to Vacuo, Ozpin, I won’t need any backup, Ozpin. No, trust me on this, Ozpin. Piece of cake.’

Unbuttoning his jacket and shirt, he finally got a good look at the damage. Most of the half healed cuts and bruises were from his capture, interrogation and escape in Vacuo, but he’d managed to pick up a pretty assortment tonight, particularly around his ribs.

Sloshing the cheap vodka onto a handkerchief he gently dabbed at his injuries, wincing slightly as the wounds throbbed in response. He took a slug from the bottle before moving onto the next set of lacerations.

‘Too close, Leo old sport,’ he murmured. ‘A damn sight too close for comfort.’

But for now, at least, he was free to enjoy a good scotch and a pesto chicken sandwich. Safe enough for the twelve hours it would take the train to reach Vale.

‘And another stunning team move from CRST!’ Amitavo boomed. ‘Vacuo has had some slow tournaments in the past ten years, but this new generation is wiping the floor with the best Haven has to offer!’

As if to punctuate his declaration, Ray Proud of Team FIRE was catapulted past the commentator’s booth to land amongst rest of his teammates.

_‘Team captain Ferus Danner is now putting up the fight of his life against the full might of Vacuo’s finest, a situation he doesn’t seem to object to at all.’_

‘That boy doesn’t seem to know when he’s beaten,’ Esma shook her head at the display on the screen. ‘Matter of fact, I think he’s smiling.’

Ozpin grinned. ‘I thought you would have spotted it already.’

‘Spotted what?’

‘His semblance, of course.’

‘His semblance of being thrashed?’

‘Look again,’ Oz advised.

The first member of CRST to close with the Haven first year had been hit with a front kick that sent him sprawling amongst icy rocks behind him. The next threw a series of knives in quick succession, only to blink as Ferus dashed closer in the blink of an eye and proceeded to unleash a devastating series of body blows that sent his opponent’s aura bar dangerously into the red.

‘He’s got a situation derived semblance,’ Esma correctly deduced.

Oz nodded. ‘He’s gotten stronger since the start of the fight. In fact, his teammates have seemed almost too eager to accept a knockout as long as they could do a significant chunk of damage to their opponent’s aura.’

By now, the iron haired boy was laughing as he took on the final two members of CRST with a blistering series of attacks that seemed to be everywhere at once.

‘He’s been careful to avoid knocking any of them out,’ Esma said. ‘If I’m looing at this right, he’s actually getting stronger and faster the more of them there are against him?’

‘I thought so at first glance,’ Oz said. ‘But look closer. His hits are doing the same amount of damage as before. It’s just that now they’re all connecting.’

‘So?’

‘So either his accuracy improves with the odds or…’

‘Or his luck gets better.’

Esma’s face fell. ‘I hate luck semblances, Oz. Just hate them.’

She’d mentioned similar sentiments in the past. Ozpin resisted the urge to tease her about it just as well as he always had.

As in, not at all.

‘For a woman whose semblance involves reading a book from a room away, you are awfully judgemental of any ability not combat related.’

‘Hypersight, Oz, it’s called Hypersight,’ Esma huffed. ‘And it is an extremely useful ability in combat.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Oz said gravely. ‘And never used for such mundane purposes as reading your husband’s list of potential anniversary gifts so you can gently shape him into picking the one you really want.’

‘I…’

 _‘I don’t believe it!’_ Amitavo roared. ‘Ferus Danner has pulled off an incredible one versus four victory with two minutes left on the clock!’

Ozpin simply extended his hand.

‘Don’t look too smug.’ Esma laughed as she handed over a small wad of lien. ‘It’s a long competition and that was just the first round.’

‘Oh I know. That was a very safe bet. I’ve been watching young Mr. Danner’s career for quite some time now. He’ll be an extremely proficient huntsman, but I fear he will swallow the temptation early to work alone.’

‘But if his luck is better solo…?’

‘Luck runs out,’ Ozpin said. ‘And when it does, it’s better by far to have a partner you can rely on.’

_‘And the next two teams to step into the arena are…Team GILT of Haven and Team JAGD of ATLAS!’_

Ozpin sat up in his chair to get a closer look at the two teams now entering from opposite ends of the arena. GILT had the look of a well rehearsed team, three girls and a boy all performing an elaborate series of acrobatics as they made their way to the centre. JAGD, on the other hand, looked almost embarrassed to walk out beneath the spotlights. All except one.

A tall girl with bright blue hair was waving at the crowd as she led the Atlas team to the middle. She’d heavily customised the standard Atlesian uniform, sprucing up the plain whites and greys with blue and gold trim, whilst her weapon, a double handed longsword, had a blade the colour of pure saphires.

‘Gloria Kyle,’ Esma said proudly. ‘One of the best fighters I’ve ever trained. Probably the most cocky, too, but life will take care of that sooner or later.’

‘She certainly has her fans.’ Ozpin glanced at the stands to see a sizeable number of young men waving furiously and holding up picture-signs with the young woman alternatively winking, smiling and sticking out her tongue.

‘What? Oh yes, turns out she’s a bit of an…what do the kids call it… ‘influencer’? Can’t wrap my head around it personally, but what the hell.’

‘And the other team members?’

‘Not bad, not bad by any means,’ Esma said. ‘The short girl with the shotgun is Aqua Reev. All three of her teammates were expelled for bullying a faunus boy. Bad business, but it had to be done. One of them was her sister.’

‘What made you keep her on?’

‘She was the one that turned the rest of the team in.’

Ozpin looked at the girl with new interest. Esma didn’t seem to rate the girl highly as a combatant, but he’d always looked for the deeper signs of personhood beyond mere appearances. Integrity was a trait that rarely went out of style.

‘And the blonde boy?’

‘Dandelion Haze? He was on the same team as Gloria. Their other teammates got sent back a year for failing their final exams. Reliable kid. Interesting Semblance as you’ll soon see.’

‘And what about him?’ Oz pointed at the final boy. He was tall. Taller than the others by a full head. Broad in the shoulders, with the tell-tale waist of a powerlifter. Yet he seemed remarkably light on his feet despite his bulk. The only armament he carried was a standard issue Atlas service revolver.

‘Ah, the team leader. James Bartholomew Ironwood. The only captain I’ve ever seen to be less talented than any individual member of the team he’s supposed to be leading.’ Esma gave a sigh. ‘Brothers know I’ve tried to get through to the boy. But he just doesn’t have that…that _spark_. That relentless urge to be the best. I mean the boy goes into battle with a pistol. And his melee attack is…hitting them with the pistol.’

‘How unimaginative,’ Oz said drily. ‘But I might reserve judgement until I see them fight for myself.’

It was a marvel to watch Atlas technology reshape the arena according to the randomised settings. Where once magic could have created such marvels in a heartbeat, Ozpin almost preferred the ingenuity and willpower behind shaping the ice field and the forest below.

The teams squared off, weapons twirling, footing being tested. Ozpin noted young James was double checking the speed loaders on his gunbelt rather than show off for the crowd. Ordinarily he might have interpreted it as a sign of focus, of concentration. Yet there was an edge to his preparations…as if the effort was in disregarding the crowd rather than readying for battle.

Curious.

There was no showmanship to his opening moves either. With the countdown commencing, Ironwood drew his revolver, thumbed back the hammer and took aim. When the bell rang he started shooting. High explosive dust slugs hammered into his opponent’s Aura. And, when all six rounds had been fired, he flicked out the cylinder, shook out the empty cartridges and reloaded in a smooth, well-practiced motion. Then he kept shooting at the same target.

Esma was right. Very unimaginative. And yet his opponent’s aura was already halfway depleted and falling fast.

The rest of the team had already split into partner groups. Gloria and Dandelion moved directly left into the ice floes, Gloria deflecting the shots chasing them whilst Dandelion fired back with some kind of semi-automatic rifle. Aqua was covering the team leader’s flank, pinning down the girl attempting to circle around with solid slugs from her shogun.

JAGD’s battle plan became clearer as they began to move into the wings of the arena. Each pair had a close range and mid range fighter working to deny the mostly close-range Team GILT any opportunity to close the distance. But where Gloria and Dandelion were giving ground and allowing themselves to be chased across the ice fields, James and Aqua were pursuing their pair back into the trees. To GILT it might have seemed like they were alternatively winning or choosing favourable ground. To Ozpin, it looked like a tactic designed to prevent either half of GILT from providing mutual support.

It was a simple strategy, unlikely to yield dramatic results, but effective enough when your opponent’s capabilities were unknown. It seemed that Esma had been correct. If moving in clockwise direction around the arena was the best young James could offer, then he was unlikely to move his team very far through the tournament regardless of the outcome.

And yet…there was something behind that calculated disinterest from earlier that stopped Oz from leaving his seat for an early dinner. Something about the way the boy had casually run his thumbs over his reloads, tapping each one of them in an irregular rhythm like a ritual…

…or a signal.

On the field, both teams had reached the opposite edges of the environment, Ironwood’s pair chasing their side from forest to ice, Gloria being chased from ice to forest. As if seeking a faster route, Gloria cut from the ice over the hard ground of the central zone. One of their opponents followed her path, leaving behind the cover of the ice floes in order to come to grips with the girl.

And just like that, the trap was sprung.

Aqua suddenly halted in her tracks at the edge of the forest, thrusting out a hand toward the two girls she was chasing. There was no immediate effect, but a moment later both of the began to slip and fall as the ice turned to puddled water under their feet. Yet Aqua made no move to follow up with her shotgun. Instead, she flipped the barrel over and slapped on a box magazine. Spinning to the right, she took aim at the boy chasing down Gloria.

‘Ah.’ Ozpin gave a nod. ‘So she’s the team marksman, not Mr. Haze.’

‘Correct.’ Esma smiled as the boy was bowled over by the impact of the high-explosive dust round. Gloria finished him off with an almost casual backstroke.

On the other side, James had holstered his pistol and closed with the two girls scrambling to regain their footing. The ice had now hardened again, allowing the first to plant her feet and strike out with her kali sticks. James absorbed the blow on his left arm, then seized her right wrist. GILT’s team leader let out a helpless yelp as she was flipped over Ironwood’s back and careened head over heels out of the arena.

The other girl, now ready for him, attacked with a hatchet in each hand. James drew fast, firing twice before she was on him, then intercepting the first strike with the barrel of his pistol. The second, however, stuck him on the wrist. His aura accepted most of the blow, but he still cried out in pain and dropped the pistol. The moment’s distraction cost him a knee in the stomach before he finally recovered and leapt out of the way of the headshot that might have finished him.

For a moment, Oz thought it might be over. He’d forgotten that Aqua’s recently revealed sniper rifle still had a shotgun mode. Apparently, so had Ironwood’s assailant. At point blank range, the twelve-gauge steel slugs knocked the girl flat on her face with no regard for her aura. Facing down a shotgun barrel and Ironwood’s retrieved pistol, the girl slowly raised her hands in surrender.

In the space of five minutes, JAGD had reduced the odds from four on four to four against one, including one knockout by submission. None of which had involved a engagement longer than thirty seconds. A quick glance at Esma told him she was just as surprised as he was.

James barked his first command of the match. ‘Regroup!’

‘Hang on!’ Gloria called back. ‘I’ve got this!’

The last member of GILT had fled into the forest, Gloria in hot pursuit. The crowd was cheering her name, anticipating one final flurry of blows before it all over. A badly needed first win for Atlas, and one of the most dramatic upsets of the first round was about to conclude with a dramatic finish by a crowd-pleaser. Oz found himself whooping along with them.

Her quarry turned, flinging a handful of throwing stars out behind her. Gloria flipped over them and brandished her blade as she came down to deflect a second handful. Esma smiled proudly.

‘Now you’ll really want to watch this one, Oz.’

Gloria’s opponent chanced another look behind her. It was bad call. She tripped and fell over a root, landing hard as Gloria raced across the gap and lifted her sword for a two handed finish.

A tree punched her before the blow could land.

Ozpin had to blink to make sure he’d seen it right. The tree over which the girl had fallen had seemingly reached out with a branch and slapped Gloria into a thorn bush.

Amitavo was quick to fill in the gaps. _‘Ah yes, it seems that young Miss Laurel Lee has chosen the perfect time to use her semblance! According to my profile sheet, Tree Hugger allows her to manipulate living plant life, with denser materials such as ironbark or oak requiring more energy when compared to spruce or pine.'_

The pine branch that Laurel had struck Gloria with had certainly been dense enough. Dandelion had sprung to aid her, the blonde supporting her weight as she glanced around woozily.

Laurel smirked as she stretched out her hands. The forest sprang to life, a barrage of leaves whipping through the air and enveloping the pair in a blinding fog of green and yellow. Dandelion tried to withdraw, only for both of them to trip over the vines which now wrapped around their legs to immobilize them.

Ironwood and Aqua arrived a moment later. But it seemed Laurel was just warming up. The roots of a willow tree snapped out like whip. Ironwood took a glancing blow that staggered him, Aqua absorbed the full force to her stomach. She doubled over with her aura flaring. The second blow sent her crashing into the body of an oak. The bar dropped to zero as she hit the ground and lay still.

The cameras zoomed in on Ironwood, now effectively the last fighter standing. Esma groaned as he chose to run to the right.

‘Look at him. The other two aren’t even knocked out yet and he’s panicking. If he just chose to stand and fight…’

A particularly vicious eucalyptus clotheslined the boy before she could finish her thought. On screen, Ironwood’s aura dropped below the knockout line with a crisp buzz. The only two still standing were Gloria’s by a thread and Dandelion’s. Laurel turned back to them, deactivating her semblance as she drew more throwing stars from her belt.

Gloria tried to lift her sword and received a trio of blades to the chest and neck. She sank to the ground with a buzz. Dandelion continued to scramble backwards, his hands shaking as they tried to undo the vines wrapping up his ankles.

The camera focused on Laurel as she smirked, raising both hands to deliver the final salvo.

She sneezed. She shook her head. Then she sneezed again. Her eyes were turning red and her nose was running as she kept on sneezing. Dandelion finished extracting himself from the vines and retrieved his weapon, but he needn’t have bothered. Laurel was now sobbing and sneezing in rapid succession, sinking to her knees and raising her right hand to indicate she cold no longer continue fighting.

The bell chimed to indicate JAGD had managed to snatch a 1-0 victory. But there was no cheering from the crowd, only a stunned silence as the arena medics came out to help up the defeated fighters and Laurel’s team leader came over to comfort the still sneezing girl.

‘Dandelion’s semblance?’ Oz guessed.

‘Flower Power,’ Esma said. ‘Although, I think it’s actually tree pollen that he boosts. Doesn’t matter even if you’re not normally prone to hayfever, most people drop way before he reaches his power limit.’

‘I would never have believed that could be a useful combat semblance.’

‘You and me both. And yet he was able to smoke out an entire bandit encampment on their last field trip.’

Some light, polite applause accompanied both teams as they limped and sniffled off the field. Oz couldn’t blame them. Compared to some of the titanic clashes of earlier, it had been a decidedly underwhelming match. And yet…he wondered how many of the spectators had seen the first half for what it was. How James Ironwood had, with a few discrete hand signals, communicated a complex battle plan that his team had followed almost to the letter.

More importantly, would the next team to face JAGD be adequately wary of them, or would they be focused on the narrow margin by which they had scraped their victory?

 _'You really shouldn't involve yourself in a student championship.'_ Some inner voice tried to smother the impulse that was beginning to form.

 _'I don't plan on interfering in anything_ _,'_ Ozpin answered cheerfully. He stood up and snatched his cane with a decisive flourish. _'Just making a few little nudges here and there.'_


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A narrow victory reveals the cracks within Team JAGD, Team GLRY lives up to their name and Ozpin begins to formulate his plans.
> 
> A lion hunt is set into motion.

Dandelion, as usual, was the first to speak.

‘So, Gloria, do you reckon that’s going to get the viewers in on Rapidgram? Spike up the sponsors? Maybe Pumpkin Pete will put you on a cereal box again? They can use that shot of you getting whiplashed by a pine tree. Best selling stuff right there.’

‘Just leave it, Dandy,’ Aqua said. ‘We all got snared by that semblance.’

‘No we didn’t,’ Dandelion snarled back. ‘Jimmy saw it coming. What did he sign? What does three taps on the third reload mean, Gloria? ‘Cos I thought it meant, _third member has an earth semblance_.’

Gloria slammed her sword in its locker and began stripping off her combat vest. ‘I thought I could handle it.’

‘Yeah, handled it real great,’ he sneered. ‘Now, instead of pulling off a snap victory like we planned, everyone’s going to think we’re a bunch of morons that almost got knocked out in the first round!’

‘I’m sorry! Alright? Is that what you wanted out of me?’

‘Sorry isn’t good enough. We’re meant to be fighting tomorrow and right now I can’t even trust that you’re going to stick to the game plan.’

‘Lay off,’ Aqua warned again. ‘We won, okay? Let’s just cool down and grab some dinner.’

Gloria’s head snapped back up. ‘I don’t need you defending me.’

Aqua opened her mouth and slammed it shut again. ‘Fine.’

She grabbed her gym bag and stormed toward the showers. Dandelion blocked her path.

‘No one’s leaving until we finish our team meeting.’

‘Oh this is a team meeting?’ Aqua’s fists clenched slowly. ‘I thought it was just a forum for you to be a dick and Gloria to wallow in her self-pity?’

‘We need to decide who’s fighting tomorrow.’

‘We’ve already been over this,’ Aqua said. ‘We all agreed it’d be you and Gloria.’

Dandelion glanced back at his partner and crossed his arms. ‘I’m not so sure I want to go into battle with a partner I can’t trust.’

‘Oh for crying out loud…’

‘What?’ He pressed on. ‘Jimmy’s always saying how much trust and loyalty matters in a team. How am I supposed to know if Gloria’s actually going to back me up tomorrow or if she’s going to sprint off into another trap?’

He turned to where the team leader was standing by a weapons-maintenance bench. ‘Jimmy, could _you_ back me up on this?’

The eyes of the team swivelled to rest on him. James wished they would swivel elsewhere. The ache in his chest from where the branch had knocked him out of the fight was only slightly less annoying than the ache in his wrist. His throat was sore, his lungs ached slightly and he was flat out starved. He wanted a long, hot shower and a large steak.

What he wanted rarely coincided with what his team needed.

‘Dandy,’ he said. ‘You’re right. Gloria, you let us down out there. Dandelion has every right to doubt whether you could work well together tomorrow.’

Her head bowed slightly, Gloria just shrugged. James looked back to Dandelion. ‘So Dandy, you have my permission to drop out of the pairs competition. I’ll partner with Gloria instead, she and I work the best together after you.’

Gloria’s head rose sharply at his words. Dandelion sputtered for a moment, his checks turning red as he digested the words. ‘You’re moving _me?_ ’

‘I don’t want to move anyone,’ James said mildly. ‘My hope is that you and Gloria can move past this, go out there tomorrow and win one for Atlas. But like I said, if you can’t do it then I won’t force you to.’

‘I won us that round!’

‘And we’re all grateful. But it doesn’t change reality. Gloria is our best fighter. If anyone of us is going to take out the finals, it’s her. So, we’re going to stick to our plan. Because one team member going off book doesn’t justify throwing the book out. We clear?’

Dandelion glared at him, the back at Gloria. He snatched his own bag from the locker and stormed off to the male showers without a backwards glance. Aqua’s face remained impassive as she left for the female end. James was left facing Gloria. His teammate, and new partner, was still pale after the knockout.

He wondered if he should say something. Some word of encouragement. Of trust. It was hard to find. Months of carefully rehearsed strategies had left him confident of taking the first round in a clean sweep. Gloria’s actions had snatched the wind out of JAGD’s sails before they could gain any momentum. None of which he dared say to her face.

Eventually she grabbed her own bag and headed for the showers. James glanced longingly at his own locker, but some cowardly impulse made him turn away. The thought of having to trade words with an angry Dandelion again made his stomach churn. There was no task he relished less than having to argue with someone he considered a good friend. He’d rather fight a dozen Beowolves in his boxers.

Instead, he turned back to the weapon bench and unholstered his revolver. There was a deep nick on the matte coating, but since it blended nicely with the rest of the scrapes and notches on the case and grips, he decided to let it stand. With quick, practiced motions he disassembled the weapon and set each individual piece on the bench for cleaing. All up, he had fired exactly sixteen rounds in the match, not a large amount, but high explosive shells tended to leave a bit more carbon residue than practice ammunition.

Even the comfort of his routine couldn’t dispel the unease in his stomach. Anxious thoughts gnawed at the edge of his mind. Better ways he could have handled Dandelion’s tantrum, better ways he could have dealt with Gloria’s insubordination, ways the whole situation might have been avoided. Eventually he was forced to put down the pieces in his hands and take a long, deep breath to centre himself.

‘Rough evening?’ A sympathetic voice intruded in his thoughts.

James’ head snapped up to see a lean man in a white shirt and elegant green waistcoat make his way down the steps from the concourse above. He instinctively snapped to attention. ‘Professor Ozpin, sir!’

‘Please, James, Beacon is not a military academy. Professor will do fine.’ The older man offered a friendly smile as he approached the bench. ‘I just came by to offer my sincerest congratulations on a well fought match.’

‘Sir…I mean, professor, we barely scraped a victory.’

‘Victory is a funny thing to measure,’ Ozpin said. ‘Often it is in the battle. Sometimes it is in how the battle is fought. Other times it is in choosing when and where to fight.’

James paused. ‘I…am not quite certain that history would agree with you, Professor.’

‘Wouldn’t it?’ The man’s words were cryptic, but James decided that his smile was honest, at least. ‘I have found that history is not so much written by the victors as by those who wish to write a compelling narrative about the victors.’

‘Well, that victory wasn’t too compelling.’

‘Oh? An unexpected semblance trap executed at the last second? Mr Haze has an impeccable sense of timing.’

‘Yes, but in real life we’d now be isolated and under-strength in the wild. Helpless against any Grimm that would be drawn to the fight.’

‘Hmm…yes, that would be troubling. So, your concern is that it wasn’t a clean win?’

‘More or less.’

‘Well, James,’ Ozpin paused. ‘May I call you James?’

‘Of course.’ He wasn’t exactly in a position to decline.

‘Well, there is good reason for why the tournament progresses from four to two down to one on one combat. I have always said that a huntsman who works alone is a huntsman with a deathwish, and yet we must all be prepared for that eventuality.’

‘Of being alone?’

‘Of being forced to work alone.’ A wistful look crossed his face. ‘It is always best to have someone. But worse by far to have someone that you can’t trust. Will you trust your partner tomorrow?’

The question was so direct that James almost forgot to wonder how Ozpin could have known that he was going to fight in the second round.

‘I…think so? Yes.’

‘Even after today?’

‘She made a mistake, sure, but she’s still our strongest fighter.’

‘Strength is important.’ There was a strange lilt to the words. ‘But do you think she owns that mistake?’

‘She apologised.’

‘Does she _own_ that mistake?’

The whole conversation was enough to make James’ head spin. Normally when a professor asked a question there was a definite answer they expected. He hadn’t the faintest clue what Ozpin was thinking behind the bland smile and the half-lenses of his glasses.

‘I think…she’s embarrassed,’ James said carefully. ‘I think she won’t rush in like that again.’

‘But will she really learn? Will you?’

‘I’m…not certain what answer you expect me to give, sir.’

Ozpin considered him for a few moments more. He sighed, then stood, face unreadable save for a slight twitch in his cheeks. He lifted his cane from the bench where he’d rested it, then turned back to him with a flourish.

‘I suppose I don’t know what answer I expected either, James. But perhaps that is the problem. You want to keep Gloria in the running because it is what’s expected. I will say only that one should never underestimate making bolder choices than an opponent thinks you are capable of.’

James was left staring at the wall, the professor’s words digesting in his mind as he looked for any possible meaning in them. Eventually he decided to leave it for later. Whatever the headmaster’s intent in speaking with him, James felt neither congratulated nor comforted. Grabbing his gym bag, he headed for the air taxis. He’d shower back at Beacon. Maybe the flight would clear his head.

\---------------------

Glynda blew a kiss up at the crowd as they continued to chant her name in delirious fervour. Her golden hair fanned around her shoulders like a royal cloak, a perfect accompaniment to the raging inferno that her liberal use of fire Dust had triggered in the savannah behind her.

Her mother had always complimented her on her serene poise, and her father had always stressed the importance of being graceful in victory. So Glynda offered a beatific smile to her fellow students of Beacon whilst giving a kind nod to the students of Atlas. It never hurt to give your opponents some dignity in defeat.

Her teammates, however, were slightly less well versed in the art of good sportsmanship.

‘What’s that I hear?’ Lapis Roswell lifted a hand to her ear, drinking in the cheers of the crowd as she took her place at Glynda’s side. ‘You want more? But that’s all Atlas has to offer tonight!’

To punctuate her boast, there was a slight groan from the team leader of Atlas’ vaunted Team KING. Glynda wondered if she should offer to help him back to his feet. Part of her worried that he might take it as a patronising gesture, the last thing she wanted to convey. One wouldn’t think it to watch Lapis swagger around the arena and high five Rajah and Ymir, but it had been a close run thing on a number of occasions.

Any battle between fourth year students was a potential clash of titans. Anyone who made it to their third year at a Huntsman academy had already proven themselves academically gifted and more than adept in multiple forms of combat. That was then topped off by a solid year of advanced mentorship under an elite cadre of top-tier hunters. For a team to survive intact they had to be more than just good fighters. They had to have their co-ordination refined to high art.

It was no exaggeration that under Professor Rizzo’s tutelage, Team GLRY had gone beyond art and into the transcendent.

Team KING had been good, no question. Heavily armed, well-rehearsed, capable of a frightening degree of improvisation. But they’d been feeling the pressure after only two other Atlas teams made it through the first round. They’d taken risks, gone on the offensive too early and paid the price for it in the urban jungle where GLRY had laid enough traps to level one of the larger buildings. Then, when forced on the defensive, they’d made the mistake of hiding in the long grass.

It was their final mistake of the match.

After a night of somewhat lacklustre matches, the ferocity and power of the slugging match on field had the crowd well and truly pumped up. Lapis was soaking up the attention, her eyes radiant as she waved furiously at her boyfriend up in the stands. Even Rajah and Ymir were being drawn in by the mood, the twins joining their giant teammate in waving and bowing as the home crowd lavished attention on its favourite daughters.

The smile was still turning up the ends of her lips as they finally took their leave of the field and began the arduous trek to the shower rooms, dodging happy fans, angry fans and talent scouts, all in pursuit of a hot shower.

‘Sooooooo….’ Lapis began. ‘I think we need to discuss the big ticket items first.’

‘If you say ‘where do we party tonight’, I’m going to go with Rajah for the doubles round,’ Glynda warned.

‘But Glyyyyyn!’ Lapis grabbed her arm and hung off it, not an easy feat considering the height difference between them. ‘You’ve had us on the dry for months now!’

‘To win the tournament,’ Rajah piped up. ‘One does not break the fast just because the end of the journey is within sight.’

Ymir giggled, brushing her brown curls out of her eyes as she bumped her sister on the shoulder. ‘What are you talking about? Yesterday you were complaining that you hadn’t been able to go dancing in forever!’

‘And look how our focus paid off tonight.’ Glynda smiled back at her team. ‘But, if it really means that much to you, Raj, you can go dancing if you want. Lapis and I will stay focused for the next round.’

Rajah shuddered, but shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no. If my sisters suffer, so do I suffer with them. With you to the end and all that good stuff.’

‘Fair enough,’ Lapis said. ‘But another week and I guarantee you I’m going to be drinking champagne out of that first place trophy. Don’t stand in my way.’

‘If we take first place, I’ll drink it with you,’ Glynda said.

‘Oh, you had better think twice before making statements like that.’ Lapis gave her a wicked grin. ‘I have been waiting three and a half years to see what kind of party animal is waiting under that buttoned-up exterior and if all it takes is the victory of a lifetime to get you skinny dipping in the school fountain then…’

‘Miss Goodwitch!’ The cheery voice of Beacon’s headmaster mercifully cut off Lapis before she could finish her promise. ‘A well fought victory by all of Team GLRY!’

‘Professor Ozpin,’ Glynda dipped her head demurely as the man in question strode toward her party. ‘We got very lucky in a few places.’

‘Rubbish,’ Professor Ozpin said. ‘You and I both know that luck is made by hard work and dedication. Your own has not gone unnoticed. In fact, your team’s progression is an exemplar both of sound judgement and mature leadership. A lesson that I would like to pass on to…oh wait, there he is. James? James! May I borrow a moment of your time?’

A figure in a standard Atlas combat uniform paused in the corridor across from the group. ‘Professor?’

‘Yes, I’d like to introduce you to someone. Glynda, this is James Ironwood of Atlas Academy. James, this is…’

‘Glynda Goodwitch,’ the boy said softly, his eyes suddenly wide. ‘Captain of Team GLRY. You were the first second year to ever make it to the semi-finals last tournament, knocking out Team STAR in the doubles round when they were the favourites to take the whole comp.’

‘Finally, someone who gets it.’ Lapis greeted the newcomer with a wolfish grin. ‘We saw your match earlier as well. Got to say, I like a guy who’s fast with his hands.’

‘Lap!’ Glynda hissed, but the boy just smiled innocently.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘But ours was kind of…messy.’

Rajah snorted. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

Glynda gave her a sharp look. ‘It was a hard-fought match. You should be proud of yourself.’

It had been a mild statement of approval, but the boy ducked his head as if she’d just laid a laurel wreath on his brow. His right hand shot up to scratch the back of his neck as he stared at her boots.

‘Uh, thanks,’ he said. ‘Coming from you that…that means a lot. You’re…uh…you’re really great. On the battlefield, I mean.’

Glynda had no idea why her cheeks began to burn at the tall boy’s compliments. She tried to turn away to hide it, but the presence of Professor Ozpin and her own teammates left her with few places to hide. ‘Uh…you’re welcome.’

For a moment they stood in the corridor, trying to stare anywhere but at each other. James managed to recover his composure first.

‘Well, I…I should really get a taxi,’ he said.

Glynda stared at him blankly.

‘To Beacon,’ he added. ‘For a shower. Because…uh…I, y’know, stink.’

‘Oh, right,’ Glynda nodded. She glanced down at her own sweat-drenched uniform. ‘Me too.’

‘Well, I’ll see you later.’ He stuck out his hand like it was an iron bar. Glynda gazed at it for a few seconds before extending her own hand in kind. His grip was warm and slightly clammy but…so very gentle.

‘See you later,’ she said.

‘Right. Right,’ James repeated. His eyes met hers for the second time, pale blue connecting to pale green for a fleeting moment.

‘See you later,’ he blurted out as he broke away and walked rapidly toward the corridor he’d come from.

‘Taxis are the other way, James,’ Ozpin called pleasantly. ‘Here, I’ll show you.’

As soon as the team were alone, Lapis swivelled her head back to Glynda so fast she feared her friend would get whiplash.

‘What in the frippity was that?’ She demanded.

‘Frippity?’

‘Don’t change the subject. You just forgot how to talk.’ There was an accusing note in her voice.

‘I was talking.’ Glynda knew it was a weak defence, but she carried on regardless.

 _‘I stink. Me too.’_ Lapis mimicked. ‘What happened to Glynda the Cool? Glynda ’

‘What…nothing?’

‘Am I missing something?’ Rajah chimed in.

Ymir glanced at her twin sharply. ‘Did you just miss Glynda choking up and blushing in front of a boy?’

‘A cute boy,’ Lapis added. ‘A tall cute boy.’

‘He wasn’t that tall,’ Glynda muttered.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Ymir’s eyes widened. ‘That was a six and half foot Atlesian mountain and you looked ready to break out the climbing spikes.’

‘Ym!’ Rajah glanced around nervously. ‘People will hear you.’

Lapis was checking her watch. ‘How quickly can we shower? Curfew isn’t for two hours, so I think we can track him down in the Atlas dorms and…’

‘Enough,’ Glynda said firmly. ‘I’m glad we’re all having some post-match fun, but this is no way to talk about a visiting student. Besides, this is a very busy tournament and there’s over a hundred Atlas guests. We probably won’t even see him again before he goes home.’

‘What if we run into him in a match?’

Glynda sighed. ‘We all saw how his team fell apart in that match. They probably won’t even make it past the doubles round.’

‘Ah, Miss Goodwitch!’ Professor Ozpin’s cheerful tenor echoed down the hallway. ‘I was hoping you’d still be here!’

\-------------------------------------

Zahra hissed as the acolyte pressed the alcohol soaked swap to her lower back. The girl paused, uncertain if it was an indication to halt. Zahra waved her on impatiently. It was her own fault for allowing her quarry such an easy escape. Even now the fury and shame in her gut were far worse than the various cuts and bruises she had sustained in the running battle between her Sisters and Leonardo Lionheart.

Normally, the Dustwind Sisterhood did not operate in large numbers outside of Vacuo. Other than when they’d ridden out in force during the Great War, they rarely left their mountain convents at all. Zahra agreed with the necessity of a punitive mission in principle. In practice it was far more difficult to sneak an entire strike wing between continents than the High Mother had predicted.

Yet, as the Sister who had journeyed the most in the Kingdom of Vale, it had fallen to Zahra to complete the task and she had attempted it to the best of her ability.

And failed.

Zahra was familiar with failure. Through her time as novice and acolyte she had been encouraged to test her limits and seek improvement through struggle. Often times such efforts came up short. A broken leg from a missed jump. A bolt accidentally fired into a fellow novice’s shoulder once during a live fire exercise. Her training mother had been calm and kind in the delivery of correction, guiding Zahra away from the shame of defeat toward the light of future glories.

And so Zahra swallowed the distinctive bitterness which was unique to finding oneself wanting and focused on the immediate problems before her.

Fiera sat opposite her, her diminutive friend relatively uninjured by the fighting, but far more upset than Zahra that they had failed to apprehend their quarry.

‘I told you we should have waited to hit him at the hotel,’ Fiera said crossly. ‘He was expecting something at the docks. I would have too in his position. If you’d just listened then we could be relaxing on the ship home, watching the first round of the Vytal Tournament.’

Zahra didn’t try to argue the point. Rather she simply reflected on what she had been told about Leo Lionheart. That he was a reckless adventurer. A daredevil who lived life one fight and one hand of cards at a time. The type of man whose attention span could be measured in the inches of whatever skirt happened to be passing by him at any given point.

All of that might have been true. But what her sisters had failed to mention was that Lionheart had eyes in the back of his head. She had gotten her wing to Vale by air ahead of his ship and set a simple ambush at the docks. A hail of crossbow bolts should have solved the issue of the blasphemer that had incurred the wrath of the High Mother. That, and the lead belt which would have ensured his corpse never floated back to the surface.

But when the ambush had been sprung and twenty bolts had intersected on the lone Faunus from six different directions, he had simply dodged them all. A feat that, the last time Zahra had checked her geometry, shouldn’t have been possible.

Hence the running fistfight through the backstreets of the city. Hence the local constabulary searching high and low for the black hooded assassins hurling dust around. Hence the three badly wounded sisters now lying on the far side of the safe house, the remaining acolytes quietly tending to their wounds. If nothing else, she didn’t have to worry that they’d be well cared for. If an acolyte’s sister died before her training was complete, her chance of being assigned another mentor was slim. There were simply too many acolytes and not enough sisters to teach them all.

But no one had died yet. And if Zahra had her way, no one would.

‘I am expecting castigation from the Higher Mother,’ Zahra said. ‘When it arrives, I expect you will be named Strike Mistress in my place.’

Fiera looked uncomfortable at that. Though both of them had come up as novices, it had always been Zahra who more naturally fell into the role of a leader. ‘I don’t wish to see you removed, Zahra. I just wish you had listened to me on this occasion.’

As irritated as she was with her, Zahra could not help but be touched by her friend’s loyalty. There were many in the Sisterhood who prized rank over the bonds of comradeship. It helped having a deputy who had no such designs on her position.

‘I made my feelings well known even before we left Shade,’ Zahra sighed. ‘This is a fool’s errand. Now more than ever. At least before he was unaware of our intentions. If only the High Mother had just…’

She cut herself off before the words could escape her. That was the worst part of failure. The constant justification after the fact. No mind, however disciplined, wanted to admit that the failure was its own fault, so it went looking for scapegoats.

Her scroll buzzed in her pocket and she sighed again. Speaking of scapegoats…

Her own message to the High Mother had been succinct. Three casualties. Element of surprise lost. Local authorities alerted to some kind of assassin group operating in the area. Her recommendation? Evacuation. Await Lionheart’s return to Mistral and ambush him in two or three month’s time.

The response was not surprising.

Zahra lowered the scroll. ‘Good news or bad news?’

‘Um…good news?’

‘The good news is you don’t have to take command of the wing just yet.’

‘And the bad news?’

‘You know the tournament that’s on in Beacon right now? The one attended by hundreds of hunters-in-training?’

‘Oh no.’

‘Oh yes. And apparently the High Mother’s new patron had an extra request. She doesn’t just want Lionheart dead. She wants us to kill Beacon’s headmaster ‘if practicable’.’

‘Oh.’

Fiera paused. Zahra knew her friend was too loyal to say it, but they were both thinking the same thing. Finally her deputy looked up with a strained smile.

‘At least we’ll get to see the tournament after all?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zahra and Fiera are the result of a chat I had with my sisters about whether or not the assassin sisterhood really had to be malevolently evil, or if they were just tired working-class girls who honestly think that this whole dark sorority thing is getting a little melodramatic.


	3. A Beacon of Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Team JAGD continues to fracture, Glynda extends an invitation to James.
> 
> With the dance fast approaching, Taiyang and Raven make a dark pact.

For those on top of their studies, the reduced academic tempo during the Vytal Festival was a chance to relax and enjoy the fruits of their labour. All the long nights, extra-curricular subjects and adequate preparation had yielded now the opportunity to enjoy an extended break with no assignments or essays due until at least a week after the festivities had died down.

For those who had struggled through the first semester, the workload had only increased. Particularly for those who had struggled through both philosophy and history classes. Professors Rizzo and Amitavo believed that the best way to help the bottom ten percent of the class was to push them to the brink of near insanity and hope that the student would find the experience unpleasant enough to devote more time to their studies.

Which was why Tai found himself pouring over his textbooks on his favourite study area. Namely, the back lawn of Beacon overlooking the lake below the academy. Summer always found his refusal to study in the library an amusing quirk, considering that even Qrow recognised the necessity of being near the sources of knowledge in order to absorb it.

Tai could laugh off most of her jokes. At least the little brat was decent enough to let him study where he would, bringing most of their study sessions out of doors whenever the weather was good. Qrow, on the other hand, would never miss an opportunity to mock the only boy in Beacon with less refinement than himself. After the stunt with the skirt, Tai couldn’t deny the ironic justice.

After hours making slow headway into a dense and almost impenetrable tome on the Faunus War, Tai believed he was edging toward a breakthrough. He could feel it forming in his mind, the slow well of understanding that would eventually explode into an educational epiphany. If he could just establish a firm link between the industrial revolution in Mantle and the warmongering fostered by rival congolomerates in Mistral and Vale he might be able to submit his essay two hours before it was due rather than two hours after.

That was when Raven flopped her head into Tai’s lap and stared up at him expectantly.

The inspiration vanished like a torch doused in water. Very warm water, admittedly, but still.

Tai cocked his head and stared down at her. He was unable to keep either the exasperation or the fondness out of his voice as he asked his usual question. ‘What do you want now?’

‘I’m bored,’ Raven said. ‘Entertain me?’

‘I could throw you into the fountain,’ Tai said. ‘That would be very entertaining for me.’

She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Come on. It’s been days since we did anything interesting.’

‘We won our first round literally yesterday.’

‘And now Summer and Qrow are getting ready for their round,’ Raven said. ‘And every other girl in the dorms is busy gushing over how cute their dresses are for the stupid dance. I tried hitting up the Vacuo guys for some excitement, but they just kept trying to ask me to go to said stupid dance with them. So, I’m bored.’

‘Get Qrow to entertain you. He doesn’t have essays to write.’

‘Ugh.’ Raven rolled her eyes. ‘Qrow’s driving me to tears right now. _I don’t like it here, Raven. Can’t we go back to Mistral, Raven? Do you think Summer will go to the dance with me, Raven?_ It’s already old and we still have months left till end of year break.’

‘My heart bleeds for you,’ Tai said blandly. ‘But if I don’t finish this essay by tonight, Professor Rizzo will have me re-writing it a hundred times over the end of year break. And then I won’t get to take you surfing on Patch.’

That got Raven’s attention. Then again, threats to her comfort usually did. She cast an appraising eye over his textbooks, then at the notes he’d written. When she glanced back, her smile had grown wider.

‘Oh, this one’s easy. There was no single major cause to the Faunus War, just a series of minor incidents that gave both sides a justifiable case to rally behind. If you read _The Faunus Deception_ by Stirling Eddington then…’

‘That wasn’t the point I was going for at all,’ Tai protested. ‘Besides, that’s not in the recommended reading.’

‘Yeah, but Professor Rizzo loves it when people do extra-curricular reading and present a new argument.’ Raven fluffed her collar vainly. ‘How do you think I keep getting straight As?’

‘With most of the teachers I’d say it’s because you pop a few buttons lower on your uniform blouse during lectures.’

Raven stuck her tongue out at him again, but this time he was ready. Tai zipped forward, catching her mouth with his before she closed it. She made a displeased grunt at having been so predictable, nevertheless she scooped a hand to back of his neck to draw him down closer to her.

‘Now that’s better,’ she murmured. ‘I thought you were never going to take a hint.’

‘Mmm mmm.’ Tai broke away with a shake of his head. ‘No, no, Raven. We are not doing this again. I mean, not on the back lawn...I mean outside!’

Raven pouted. ‘And here I was going to let you be on top for once.’

‘Raven!’ Tai hissed. ‘If I don’t get this essay in on time, the only thing on top will be a stack of extra assignments from now until graduation.’

‘Mmm, still failing to see how it’s my problem?’

Like any good street fighter, Tai recognised when he was pursuing a losing strategy. And thus, with all the deftness he’d used on the streets of Signal whenever a bunch of city kids had decided to play ‘beat the piss out of the farm boy’, Tai took a different approach to the problem at hand.

He made it a problem for later.

‘How about this?’ He said. ‘If you give me a hand getting this thing in before the deadline, I’ll help you plan something that’ll keep you entertained for weeks.’

Raven paused in her attempts to slip her hands beneath his shirt. Crimson eyes squinted in suspicion. ‘That would have to be something very special.’

Tai leaned closer. ‘You said everyone was annoying you by rambling on about the dance?’

‘Immensely so.’

‘So…’ Tai drawled. ‘Since neither of us were planning on attending, what say we put together a surprise for those that do?’

Raven sat up, eyes flashing in sudden interest as she saw his meaning. ‘You want to prank the Vytal Dance?’

‘Oh no,’ Tai shook his head. A wicked smile was beginning to spread across his face as a plan took shape before his eyes. ‘No. That wouldn’t keep you entertained for more than a few hours. What I want to do is pull the biggest prank that any of the academies have ever seen. A prank that will have the rest of the world speaking our names in awe for as long as we both live. A prank that will echo in legend long after we’ve passed on. In short, my dear, a prank worthy of the Four Maidens themselves.’

Raven was now sitting up, her eyes meeting his in a haze of heady anticipation. ‘For the record,’ she said breathily, ‘I’ve never found you more attractive than right now. But we need to finish this essay before we start writing battle plans. Give me a pen, I’ll start re-wording your introduction.’

Tai suppressed a sigh of relief as the two of them turned back to his books. For the moment, he’d forestalled Raven’s unintended efforts to sabotage his grades. That may snapback later, but for the moment he’d bought himself three extra hours and the assistance of a girl who knew what she was doing. It was not a clean victory, but it was breathing rom. Breathing room enough to figure out exactly how he was going to stage the prank of the century without allowing Raven to commit accidental manslaughter.

\---------------------------------------

Colonel Fang always emphasised the importance of discipline in every aspect of a Huntsman’s life. All small actions and big ones, for indeed the former tied into the latter. If you skipped brushing your teeth because you were tired then you might skip cleaning your weapon whilst exhausted. And if you were too lazy to make your bed each morning then you might very well be too lazy to properly set up your camp after a long day in the wilds. Each skipped step, each shortcut, each excuse, it all could lead to tragedy once the situation got truly dire.

James considered himself fortunate that such discipline had been instilled in him early and well by his parents and instructors. Otherwise he wouldn’t have had the will to get out of bed and go about his routine as normal.

The mood inside JAGD’s dorm room was sour enough to curdle even the sweetness of a sunny morning. Dandelion hadn’t come back the night before, Gloria had been on her scroll for hours after her return and Aqua hadn’t spoken to either of them before going to bed.

They’d never been a team of many words, but even then James was taken aback at just how silent the room had become. He wanted to say something, anything, but every word that came to mind didn’t seem appropriate. By rights, Dandelion should be here if James was going to chew him out or apologise for last night. His pride smarted at the thought of having to apologise for an argument he hadn’t started, but if it was the only way to get everyone back on the same page…

His scroll chiming drew him out of his thoughts for a moment. He looked away from the two girls, scanning the screen in the hope that it was some kind of signal from his wayward teammate.

It wasn’t.

‘Shit.’

He didn’t even realise that he’d spat the word out until Aqua spoke up. ‘What is it?’

James did his best to school his expression back into it’s practiced neutrality. ‘It’s a message from Professor Ozpin to all team captains. Apparently he wants to make tonight an exhibition match between Professor Rizzo and Professor Amitavo. They’re delaying all the doubles matches until tomorrow.’

Aqua shrugged. ‘Is that a bad thing? We could all use some more time to wind down.’

‘It’s not!’ Gloria broke in. ‘Right now, all the other doubles teams are studying yesterday’s footage. Memorizing semblances. Putting together strategies.’

‘We can do the same thing,’ James said. ‘Let’s go over to the training grounds and start working our…’

‘We don’t need to,’ Gloria said with a scowl. ‘You shoot them to let me get close, I finish them at close range. Keep it simple.’

Aqua’s passive exterior flickered for a moment, like she was struggling to battle down an unexpected wave inside her. When she opened her mouth it was in the same bored tones as before.

‘And how did rushing in work out for you last night?’

‘The plan was over-complicated,’ Gloria shot back. ‘Next time, no fancy hand signals or chase and run tactics. We make them fight us on ground of our choosing, I get the stronger opponent while James pins down the weaker one. There you go, strategy planned.’

‘Well then go rehearse it! If something unexpected happens then you need to have contingencies! Fallback options! Not go in at half-cock and expect that you’ll win.’

Gloria glared at her shorter teammate, then at James. ‘Well, Team Leader?’ She asked icily. ‘Do you want to go rehearse a strategy so simple a first year could get it?’

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to practice and practice and practice until his hands were sore. He wanted to lift some very heavy weights and sink his fists into a punching bag. And yes, he desperately wanted to make sure their battle plan was solid in the extra time they’d been given.

But one look at her fiery eyes and his will to confront her died away in a small flash of shame.

His yes sunk back to her boots. ‘It’s a simple strategy,’ he muttered. ‘We’ll work it out on the ground.’

The glance Gloria shot at Aqua wasn’t even triumphal. It almost seemed to be communicating something. Like: _‘See? He folded again.’_

She was right. Bruises aside, James would have rather fought an army alone than have to sit down and discuss strategy with a woman that would rather be sawing off her own leg. Aqua looked straight through him, barely veiled disappointment clouding her eyes before she picked up her books and stormed out, presumably to the library. Gloria followed her a moment later.

James was left stewing in his own thoughts, regrets and half-ideas swimming around each other in an ever-expanding spiral. He knew himself well enough to acknowledge that he’d sit here half a day lost in thought if left unchecked. Discipline was his saviour yet again. He grabbed his gun belt and began fishing his cleaning kit out of his pack. Half an hour of solid weapons maintenance would have him feeling more or less himself again.

A knock on the door spared him from that, too. Part of him hoped it was Dandy, come to try and apologise. The majority of him was absolutely sure that he wouldn’t see his teammate again until after the doubles round was settled, one way or the other.

Opening the door confirmed his suspicions. Or, rather, he stopped caring about those suspicions the moment he opened the door to find Glynda Goodwitch staring back at him.

‘Hello, James,’ she said brightly.

James opened his mouth. His brain, filled as it was with numerous greetings and pleasantries, immediately jumped to the first and most obvious answer that a young man could give to a beautiful young woman.

‘Hi.’

James swore that his brain would be thoroughly punished for failing him at such a decisive moment.

Glynda glanced past him. ‘Is, uh, the rest of your team in?’

‘In?’

Or maybe he’d just have the whole brain carved out and replaced with something more reliable. Maybe a mule’s?

‘In? Around the place? Present?’

‘Yes, of course.’ James glanced back around the dorm, half to double-check that no one else was present, half to buy himself time to string together a coherent sentence. ‘They’re all out at the moment. Training. Studying.’

‘Which one?’

‘Both?’ He kept stumbling forward. No one could have accused him of being a graceful man, but even his detractors would have credited him with a certain gameness.

Glynda was frowning and for a brutal moment James was scared that he was the cause. He was already assembling an apology when she gave a sigh.

‘That’s a pity. Professor Ozpin wanted me to give your team a full tour of Beacon this morning.’

‘Oh? But we already did the orientation?’

‘Well, yes.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Dining hall. Library. Training grounds. But I would imagine they didn’t walk you through the gardens? Or show you the best place to stargaze on the back lawns? When it’s not occupied by first years snogging like they invented it, that is.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Never mind.’ Her frown deepened. ‘Do you know when they’ll be back? We could always tour after lunch…’

It was then that James’ sharp tactical mind, praised by his instructors for its subtle cunning and daring wit, finally re-asserted control of his body. Legs, arms, all the way up to his tongue. The ice fell from his nerves and he set about the urgent task of convincing the woman before him that James Ironwood was an erudite, elegant Huntsman-in-training.

‘I could take it?’

Or he could just keep bumbling on. Perhaps she was the kind of woman to find idiots charming?

‘Take what?’

‘The tour?’ He nodded vaguely past her. ‘It’s a lovely morning. It’d be a shame to waste it. It might rain later.’

Better. Much better.

‘In the middle of the dry season?’

 _Excellent weather analysis, cadet,_ Colonel Fang snapped inside his head. _Maybe you should just go ahead and ask her age and exact weight?_

There was only one option left. A crazed stratagem, but he’d run out of cards faster than he’d run out of teammates.

‘I could really use a walk,’ James confessed. All advice he’d been given on the subject made it clear that honesty was a tactic of desperation when dealing with women, but James was a desperate man. ‘Clear my head a little. Things have been pretty crazy since last night.’

Glynda’s expression softened immediately. ‘I thought you seemed quite tense when we met.’

Yep. That had been the reason. He hadn’t been blushing like a schoolboy. Just flushed with anger after an argument. He was back in the game after all.

‘Well, come on then,’ Glynda said. ‘I’ll show you the sights before lunch.’

\-----------------------

Glynda was accustomed to extra assignments from Professor Ozpin. Had been for quite some time, actually. They had begun just after initiation, when she first partnered with Lapis and formed Team GLRY with Rajah and Ymir. The Professor had approached her with his customary cocoa in hand, congratulated her on her captaincy and then handed her a brief related to a ring of ‘study-drug’ dealers operating out of the lower city and assigned her to crack it before the end of semester.

That had been one of the easier ones.

It was rare that the Professor’s tasks were relevant to her normal duties as a member of the student council. Still rarer that they were relaxing and enjoyable.

And escorting James Ironwood about the grounds of Beacon was indeed enjoyable. Glynda was immensely relieved that he hadn’t detected her hesitation when she found out that his team were absent. She’d fumbled her way to a decent excuse to come back later, only for him to surprise her by asking for a personal tour.

One that she’d been more than happy to provide.

The teasing from her teammates had been merciless on the way to the showers, in the showers and on the flight back to Beacon. In fact, it hadn’t stopped until she’d simultaneously shoved a large slice of pizza in each of their mouth’s with her semblance. It was her normal method of putting an end to any insubordination.

It also prevented them from needling her till she gave in and admitted that she’d frozen up in the presence of the tall Atlas boy.

Today was easier than last night. Namely she wasn’t fatigued from a match, high on the adrenaline of combat and flush with endorphins from victory. That, and she didn’t need to worry about her teammates watching on.

It was also much harder. Lapis hadn’t been lying. James Ironwood _was_ tall. And handsome, if you liked the boyishly rugged type with clear blue eyes and neatly trimmed hair. Clearly in excellent physical condition going by the way he filled out his uniform. And, as Glynda was coming to understand, there was a keen mind beneath all the bulk. Glynda was gracious enough to admit that her friends had pegged him as her type, even if she was unsure what that ‘type’ actually was.

After all, there were tall boys at Beacon. Fit boys. Smart boys. Quite a number of those had the same combination of traits that James had in greater or lesser quantities. In her three and a half years at Beacon she had dated none of them. For some reason, only now was she having trouble keeping the conversation light and professional.

‘…King of Vale used his family stronghold as a starting point for the Academy.’ She had defaulted to babbling her encyclopaedic knowledge of the academies history in order to avoid any repeat of last night’s awkwardness. It was keeping the conversation flowing, but she hadn’t counted on his concentration being so…intense. ‘But what many people don’t know is that he was working toward that goal for years before the war. Barracks converted to dormitories. Audience rooms to lecture theatres. It cost most of his fortune, but the end result meant that Beacon Castle was ready to become Beacon Academy as soon as the armistice was signed at Vytal.’

‘That’s incredible.’ His eyes wandered over the outlines of the high towers and sweeping halls. ‘It took decades for Atlas and Mistral to first open their doors, even with the headmasters working overtime.’

The part did surprise Glynda. ‘I thought Atlas was ready to open almost immediately? It was already a battle school, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s the part our historians like to sell.’ He gave her a knowing smile. ‘It was where Mantle trained its elite combatants, true. Those same elite combatants were then slaughtered by the High King of Vale in the deserts of Vacuo. Hardly a validation of the old methods.’

Glynda frowned. ‘Sometimes I think the conclusion of the Great War is horrendously oversimplified. The King was a peerless warrior, true, but the casualties of that battle were the result of more than just one man and a sword. That the greatest peacemaker the world has ever seen be known only for such a massacre is, well…’

‘A touch macabre?’ James suggested. ‘I’ve had similar thoughts. Professor Jerri believes that most Atlesians would actually prefer it if the casualties were just the result of the first Huntsman in history finally unleashing his true strength.’

‘But why?’

‘Because then they wouldn’t have to admit that the best trained military on Remnant was out-thought strategically and out-fought tactically long before they even reached that battlefield.’

That caught Glynda’s attention. She had studied the political aspect of the Great War intently, but she had never had more than a passing interest in the military actions themselves. Perhaps it was a gap in her education, though it was difficult for her to see any meaningful connection between the battlefields of ages past and the world she dwelt in. The weaponry and abilities of a huntress differed so greatly from that of a common soldier, or even a group of soldiers, that most would struggle to find any resemblance between the two concepts.’

James, apparently, had no such mental block. Seemingly acknowledging her silent question, he turned to nod back at Beacon Tower.

‘When Vale entered the war, the High King apparently called his senior commanders to his solar and issued each of them with strict instructions for the duration of the war. Not just one mission, mind you, but for the _entire_ conflict. He then scattered his army across all of Remnant, some went on offence in Mistral, others defended Vale itself, others went to Vacuo and began to train the desert tribes in the Vale ways of war. Can you see the problem?’

She did. ‘How would those instructions have lasted a month in a ten year war?’

‘Exactly!’ He nodded, as if her perception was a unique breakthrough in the field of military science. The enthusiasm alone made her smile. ‘None of the original copies have survived, but from what I’m told the orders were extremely simple and revolved around certain actions by Mistral and Mantle that would trigger opposite reactions from his commanders. Everything else he left to their imagination. The war councils in Mantle could go for a week and not decide a course of action that quickly. In that time, a Vale regiment could march a hundred miles, smash a key supply post and then vanish back into the jungle before the king even realised it.’’

Glynda spotted the key thread immediately. ‘The High King had a smaller force, but they were moving faster.’

‘Too fast for anyone to predict.’ James agreed. ‘And whilst his military was practically operating under their own initiative, the High King was free to make decisions. He could watch us at his leisure, assess our strengths and weaknesses, find chinks in our numbers. He hired corsairs until he could build his own fleet. He had some key enemy commanders assassinated and found ways to turn the others against each other, then recruited those that remained to serve him.’

‘It’s a wonder that Mantle was even winning the war.’

‘But they weren’t!’ James grinned. ‘The historians always weigh it up in terms of territory conquered and total strength of the armies involved. No one ever thinks about how stretched out Mantle was by the end of the war. How low morale was amongst the army. About how they committed everything that was left to a desperate strike on Vacuo’s capital. The battle wasn’t a desperate last stand by the King of Vale, it was the final stroke in his master plan.’

And then, as quickly as his passion had engulfed him, it faded. He ducked his head, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he shifted on his heels.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ Glynda flicked up an eyebrow as he slowly rose to meet her gaze.

‘Rambling,’ he said. ‘I’ve studied a lot about the Great War. Maybe a little too much. I tend to, well, ramble. My teammates are usually around to shut me up before I get too annoying.’

Glynda resisted the urge to be offended on his behalf. After all, every team had its own dynamic. She was sure that many people would raise an eyebrow if they ever caught her dumping her team in the courtyard fountain after one too many sips of Team GNGR’s moonshine.

‘I don’t find it annoying at all,’ she declared. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. To have something you’re passionate about is nothing to be ashamed of.’

She’d hoped to ease his embarrassment, but if anything his cheeks grew even pinker. She turned her eyes back to the view before them, wishing that she could be less awkward. Why couldn’t talking with him be as easy as chatting with her team or any of the other boys at Beacon? Was this another one of Ozpin’s tests? Seeing if she could keep things professional with a visitor and not flail around in random tangents?

She’d tried, honestly. But she was finding it increasingly difficult to talk about Beacon, military history and the weather. What she wanted to do was ask about him. His family. His likes and dislikes, hobbies and friends. There was something more behind the rigid formality and well-drilled manners, she could sense it. But he either kept it well hidden…

 _‘…or he doesn’t want to show it to you_. _’_ A treacherous voice that sounded entirely too much like a certain red-eyed first year made her cringe.

The trouble was, the questions she wanted to ask were not well-practiced. Glynda knew that she could be light and friendly, despite Lapis and Rajah’s protests to the contrary. But to ask them seemed so personal when she barely knew him. She was meant to be showing him around the school, not prying into his past life. What if his family was a dark and tragic secret? What if he had no friends? What if his hobbies were taxidermy and casual bullying? So many things could go wrong.

And, to top it all off, it was starting to become uncomfortably long since either of them spoke.

She had to take action, even if it was just to ask how he had enjoyed his stay.

‘How…?’

‘Would…?’

Glynda couldn’t help the nervous laugh that crossed her lips. ‘Sorry. You go first.’

‘Oh no, please, you.’

‘No, really,’ she insisted. ‘I had nothing interesting to say.’

_‘Nice save, Glyn.’ Her inner Lapis held up ten fingers and smirked. ‘Now he’ll just think you’re vapid instead of cold.’_

‘I doubt that.’

She almost hadn’t heard the soft reply, so quickly had she turned away to hide her embarrassment. She might have missed it, so softly was it spoken. Instead of looking back, she had to keep staring away in order to hide her reaction to his unexpected eloquence.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Do say your piece first.’

‘Oh, well, I was just going to ask if you’d like to grab lunch,’ he said. ‘I skipped breakfast and I’m kind of…’

‘Yes,’ Glynda said. ‘Let’s get lunch. The dining hall’s just over there. Which I suppose you already know?’

‘Well, yes?’ He gave her a half-shrug. ‘It never hurts to be shown the ropes by a local.’

The relief that cleared out the butterflies in her stomach had the unfortunate side effect of reminding her that she too was starving.

‘Well then,’ she beckoned. ‘After you.’

‘No, please,’ James inclined his head. ‘Ladies first.’

It was trite. It was corny. It was so sincere that Glynda felt a momentary flutter in her heart at his gallantry.

\--------------------------------------

_Ladies first_.

 _‘Well done, James. If she doesn’t think you’re a patronising jackass, she probably thinks you’re a bumbling fool.’_ The voice inside his head was his own. James had never needed too many external forces to criticise himself. His own conscience was usually up to the task.

‘Ladies first’ was something one said to small girls and to delicate beauty queens. Whilst Glynda Goodwitch was both the most beautiful and queenly woman he had ever met, James was quite sure the only thing that had saved him from a black eye was her impeccable decorum. He had accompanied her on this tour with absurd certainty that he would find some way to impress her with his quick wit and turn of phrase.

How had he possibly forgotten that he possessed neither of those traits?

Instead, he’d blathered on about the Great War like he was giving a lecture. Dandy had made it clear to him that no woman liked being lectured. No wonder she had gone silent soon after he finished.

In one final effort to stave off the inevitable end of his time in Glynda’s company, James had suggested lunch. To his relief, she had agreed.

Equally of relief was knowing he’d have less of a chance of putting his foot in his mouth if there was food in it.

‘I don’t think your chef likes me.’

Glynda glanced at him over her glasses with a querying look. James hastened to explain himself.

‘Well, I asked for the steak and instead he gave me…whatever this is.’

‘That’s his chicken masala,’ Glynda replied. ‘Try it, you’ll like it.’

‘But he gave you the steak,’ James noted.

‘Obviously he thinks I need the energy.’

‘And I don’t?’

The edge in her smile was almost playful. ‘Perhaps he thought you could use a little spice in your life?’

James ducked his head, his cheeks flushing at her words. It wasn’t the first time someone had accused him of being a little unimaginative. Between Colonel Fang and Dandelion it was actually a wonder anyone got a word in edgeways on the subject.

Yet, for the first time he felt as if he was simply being teased for it. Not mocked. The difference in how he felt about it was…considerable. Namely, he could laugh along with her.

\--------------------------------

Oz watched the laughter at the lower table with not a little amount of satisfaction. So he _had_ seen something there last night. Interesting. Quite interesting.

Beside him, Esma was tucking into her roast chicken (or chickens, he should say) as if she’d just heard there was going to be a shortage. And who knew? Perhaps there would be. Deciding to follow her example, he tucked into his sausages with gusto, pausing infrequently to glance back toward the low table to make sure conversation was still flowing smoothly.

 _She likes him._ That much was obvious. _And he likes her._ Again, equally as obvious. _But they will never act on those feelings._ That one was more just an educated guess. Oz could recall a simpler time many, many, many years ago when men and women boldly declared their affections, took rejection stoically if it came and then went on epic quests to drown their sorrows.

The life expectancy had been shorter in those days.

These days there were distractions. Duty, leadership, social convention, and so on. There was a high chance that even were Miss Goodwitch to propose an afternoon spent roaming the gardens Mr Ironwood would blush and insist that he had to prepare his team. Conversely, were he to summon up the courage to invite her to tour the cliffs at sunset, she would find an equally compelling reason as to why she must urgently complete a twelve page essay on the flaws and benefits of compulsory military service and why it should or should not be implemented in Vale.

There was only so much he could do. Attraction was not affection, interest was not romance. And yet his interest in the pair was not based merely on some glimmer of a spark. Glynda was destined for greatness. James, at first glance, was destined for an uninspiring career as a military huntsman.

He’d tried to drop a few hints to James last night, only for the young man to stare blankly back. After that, Oz had accepted that perhaps Esma was right. If James wasn’t intuitive enough to realise the problems with his team lay with his leadership, then perhaps leadership did not suit him. But why, then, were all his finely tuned instincts screaming that he was looking at a pair of champions?

‘Intriguing,’ he murmured. _Perhaps a little more meddling might be in order? Just a slight amount..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, here's hoping that I can crack out the next chapter a little faster than that one. A friendly reader advised me that if I struggled writing romance I should reference the 7 Beat system. Whilst that required me to essentially gut this chapter and start again in order to re-align it with that system, it's given me a much better pattern for the rest of the story. Hope you enjoy!


	4. An Unopened Deck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin finds himself talking of Ironwood's future and lays a bet in his favour. But is it one he can't win or one he can't lose?
> 
> The arrival of Leo Lionheart brings word of darkness on the horizon.

_‘Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, Huntsmen and Huntresses, I’d like to welcome you to Amity Colosseum where we are currently awaiting the start of the match between two of Beacon’s most celebrated instructors. But first, allow me to give a brief introduction of our two combatants. Doctor Rizzo is renowned both as a historian, combat instructor and professional equestrian, having won awards…’_

_‘They’ve already started, Tai.’_

_‘Oh, would you look at that? That’s veteran hunters for you, not ones to wait around when there’s fighting to do. Unlike Professor Amitavo’s classes, which he frequently makes us wait around for up to…’_

_‘The match, Tai!’_

James glanced over his shoulder in astonishment. ‘Who the hell is doing the commentating?’

Glynda’s head was already in her hands. ‘A couple of idiots.’

Despite her fears to the contrary, James hadn’t taken the first available opportunity to ditch her after lunch. Instead, he’d asked to see more of the Beacon grounds. Unwilling to deprive herself of his company, Glynda had hastily scrapped plans for a team massage session down at a sports therapist in Vale. She had then endured her scroll blowing up with increasingly suggestive emoticons from Lapis in the same stoic fashion she had once endured having her dislocated arm reset by Doctor Rizzo during a second-year field trip.

Glynda thought it was stupendously unfair that her teammates were free to have childish crushes on whoever they liked without enduring mockery for it. She, on the other hand, was the Golden Girl of Beacon. The one who fought harder, smarter and meaner than any Huntress in recent memory. Apparently, that meant she wasn’t allowed to find a boy attractive. To do so had been an admission of humanity. And that admission caused her faithless friends to fall on her with all the mercy of a Nevermore.

_‘Doctor Rizzo dodges the smoke trap with footwork so delicate you’d never believe she was wearing high heels. Frankly, at her age, we’d all expect a more sensible kind of footwear. Still, she continues to be the fashion icon of Beacon that all women envy and all men secretly drool over in between swatting out needlessly difficult essays on…’_

_‘The match, Tai!’_

Yet, the afternoon had made both past and present innuendo surprisingly easy to forget. James had a certain charm about him, awkward as it was. An afternoon spent in the company of anyone other than teachers or teammates was rewarding in a different way than she was used to. The glow of…

_‘Hey, is that Glynda Goodwitch down there? Well, what do you know? Gives me endless grief for being too ‘affectionate’ in public, but there she is sliding closer to some hunk from At-’_

_‘The match, Raven!’_

Taiyang’s intervention came too late. Glynda scuttled to the left with a sudden blush. James, to her relief, did the same to the right. A huff of irritation escaped Glynda’s mouth. It was slightly chilly in the stadium, and so she’d naturally been sitting a little closer to a conveniently placed heat source. That was all.

She’d have to remember to give Raven extra cleaning duties in the dorm common rooms on next term’s roster.

\----------------------------------

Colonel Fang glanced over at where the two students were currently chatting. ‘Oz, say the word and I’ll go rescue the poor girl myself.’

Oz pretended to take his eyes off the match in front of him. Though the combatants were giving an excellent display of ability, the truth was that he’d been keeping his eyes on Beacon’s golden girl and her escort from Atlas for most of it. So far he saw nothing to be concerned about.

‘I think you’re being quite harsh on the boy,’ Oz said. ‘He’s been a perfect gentleman with Miss Goodwitch.’

‘Other than boring her to death,’ Esma muttered. ‘You must understand, Oz, that I don’t think he’s a bad sort. Just not Huntsman material.’

‘So you’ve mentioned. And yet he’s still in the running. He might not be a superlative fighter, but his planning and co-ordination is quite good for his age.’

‘Which is why I’m recommending that he drops out of Atlas Academy in favour of Officer Candidate School.’

Ozpin blinked. ‘Drop out? In his third year?’

Esma’s eyes turned back to the duel in the arena. Both professors had liberally employed their semblances as the fight progressed, the ground cratering in huge gouges as dust and weaponry clashed and roared. Even in an exhibition match, veteran hunters could rarely avoid causing extraordinary collateral damage.

‘We both know what fourth year is like,’ she said softly. ‘It’s the one that makes or breaks these kids. Has any academy ever graduated more than half its final class? How many break under the pressure of live missions? How many die?’

‘Being a soldier is often no less dangerous than being a huntsman.’

‘And now he has his aura and three full years of combat training under his belt,’ she replied. ‘I’ve made up my mind on the matter. He’s good enough for the military. Maybe even good enough to be a commando. But a huntsman has to be more. A paragon. A hero to rally around. James can’t even rally his team.’

Ozpin tapped a finger against his lip. No word of what his friend sad was technically incorrect. For any other person he might have been inclined to let the matter pass. Who was he to say that Esma’s judgement was incorrect? She’d certainly known the boy for longer.

_‘But does she know him or does she know **him**?’ Ozma wondered aloud._

Ozpin agreed. There was more to James than what Esma had spoken of. This he already knew. For if Glynda Goodwitch herself was laughing at something the supposedly dour boy had said and he was smiling back, then perhaps Esma had been wrong about other things.

‘What happened to his team?’

Esma flicked him a worried glance but Ozpin pressed on. ‘You told me what happened to the other two teams, but not to his. What happened to them.?’

Her reaction was unexpected, to say the least. Face twisting up suddenly, the sharp intake of breath and the clenched fists were signs that she was trying to hold back a larger demonstration of grief. For a woman as expressive as Esma, it was practically stoic.

‘That’s not my story to tell, Oz. I wish…no, it’s just not.’

‘Esma…’ Oz rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘I want to help the boy.’

‘And you think I don’t? He’s one of my students, Oz. Do you really think so little of me that I would just write one of them off without doing everything in my power as teacher?’

A sudden wave of shame made Ozpin bow his head. ‘I apologise, Esma. It was ill-mannered of me to make such an insinuation. And yet, I cannot help but feel young James has more in him than can be seen on the surface.’

Esma glanced back over to him. Like him, Oz knew, she was seeing the relaxed smile on his face, the tension gone from his shoulders. She kept her eyes on the scene for a few moments more before her mouth set in a firm line.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But relaxing to talk with a pretty girl is one thing. And I cannot in good conscience send someone into fourth year whose survival I fear for. There is no changing my mind on that matter.’

Ozpin knew better than to try. He had met…well, rather _Osferth_ had met Esmerelda Fang at the very end of his life. Even as a child, she had been stubborn and defiant on any issue that she deemed important. Of course, to a child of her age, everything seemed important. The former king had found it easier to win recalcitrant politicians to his side than convince the small child that he wasn’t trying to cheat her.

Still…there were other ways of convincing people to change their minds.

‘A bet!’ He said. ‘A small wager, perhaps, on the outcome of the tournament?’

Esma smiled, no doubt relieved that he’d ended his probing. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Well, I wish to make a stake on a particular fighter. The condition is that he will make it to at least the semi-finals.’

Her smile faded away again. ‘Oz, if this is about James…’

‘I bet that he will make it to the semi finals,’ Ozpin said with finality. ‘And if he does not, then I will finally give you the exhibition match for which you have been begging.’

‘And if he does?’

‘Then you will not remove him from Atlas.’

Esma gave a huff. ‘It’s a safe bet for me then, isn’t it? If James had what it took to reach the semi-finals then I wouldn’t need to be considering ejecting him.’

‘Then you have very little to lose, don’t you?’ Ozpin smiled innocently.

Esma’s frown deepened. ‘Very well. But I have conditions. You may not gift him with any new weaponry.’

‘Done.’

‘Or any special abilities.’

‘Oh, come now, Esma, I couldn’t even if I…’

Her glare silenced him. ‘I’m serious, Oz. Give him advice, if you want. Even suggest strategies for him. But he succeeds or fails based on his own skill. Fair?’

‘More than fair.’ Ozpin held out his hand. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

Esma gave it a quick shake, then shot one last glance over at the stands. James was now holding a bucket of popcorn, animatedly gesturing at the fight with his other hand as he and Ozpin’s prize pupil chattered at a rapid fire pace.

‘One of us has to be wrong about him,’ Ozpin noted quietly. He stood, retrieving his coat from the back of the chair. ‘And I think we both hope that it’s you.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To bed.’

‘The fight’s not over.’

‘Yes it is,’ Ozpin said. ‘Our good history professor will have our good philosophy professor on his back within the next five seconds.’

‘How can you…?’

 _‘I don’t believe it!’_ The exuberant boy’s voice from before rang over the stand. _‘Or rather, I do believe it, but Ecklmore’s theory of knowledge states that I should not believe it until I have verified my sense data against physical and metaphysical fact, thereby preventing myself from being deceived by unknown forces that might be compelling me to…’_

_‘Tai!’_

_‘What? Surprised I was paying attention in philosophy class?’_

_‘The match, Tai!’_

Esma grabbed her own jacket with a growl. In the stadium, Doctor Rizzo was gracefully bowing to the cheering crowd before helping her opponent back to his feet. Meaning Esma was quite free to storm up to the commentator’s box and take out some of her frustrations on whatever two idiots had been blathering on in the background. Her frustrations were not solely based on her argument with Ozpin however. Mainly, they came from the irritating feeling that she’d just been drawn into a sucker bet, but still had no idea how Oz was going to win it.

\----------------------------------------

Ozpin took his time getting back to his quarters. His limp had been acting up again, the knee that had never quite heeled still ached in the cooler evenings despite his best efforts to keep it well stretched.

Still, it was just as well. His mind was unsettled by Esma’s intentions for James. To give a young man three years of huntsman training and then inform him he was unsuited for such a role was an unusual waste. And whilst it was true that not everyone passed the fourth year on the first try, there were still plenty who came around for another go. Persistence was, after all, a key character trait of a hunter. Worse still was her intention to push him into the military like it was some kind of consolation prize.

Many argued over the difference between a warrior and a soldier. Or a soldier and a huntsman. Oz had always found such arguments to be vapid and uninteresting, if only because the people quarrelling over such things were invariably doing so to prove some ethical point.

Was it all that important if the warrior fought for glory or a cause? Did it truly matter if the soldier fought for his nation or for coin? Was the huntsman that much more of a paragon because they served no fixed master?

What did any of that matter to the people that they fought for? It did not matter to the civilian at his dinner if the wall was held by a single hunter with a blade of bright steel or by a platoon of soldiers with a volley of gunfire. The child having tea-time with her teddy bear could not have cared less if the woman slaying Grimm in the wilds did it for the joy of the fight or the promise of bounty.

By Ozpin’s own beliefs, it should not have mattered whether James became huntsman or not. And yet, he found himself curiously hung up on the matter. Perhaps it was as simple as believing that Esma was wrong about the boy? _Could I really be that petty?_

_‘Yes,’ Osferth rumbled. ‘Easily.’_

He sighed quietly as the most recent host made a rare lucid appearance from the swirls of his consciousness to cut Oz down to size again. Even so, he took the hint. It would do no good to obsess over the matter.

Approaching his quarters, he hummed tunelessly to himself as he fiddled with his keys. Now was not the time for scheming or philosophising. Now was the time for a warm bath, a hot cup of cocoa and a deep and dreamless sleep under a soft quilt.

He pushed open the door and stepped through. A millennia of combat reflexes immediately made him swing his cane up into a guard position, limp forgotten as he dropped his weight and balanced on the balls of his feet.

There was a lion standing next to his bed with an unconscious woman slung over his shoulder.

‘Oz,’ Leo said. ‘I swear it’s not what it looks like.’

\------------------------------------

‘So, let me see if I understand you correctly,’ Ozpin said a few minutes later, once the woman had been handcuffed to one of his armchairs and a steaming mug was safely ensconced in his hand. ‘You were abducted in the middle of Vacuo.’

‘Yes. In the dead of night. By a dozen elite assassins.’

‘In the dead of night, by a dozen elite assassins.’ Ozpin nodded. ‘You were then taken to what was apparently some kind of temple in a mountain range.’

‘A mountain range in a desert. Surrounded by scorpions.’

‘A mountain range in a desert, surrounded by scorpions,’ Ozpin continued. ‘Where, after a vicious interrogation, you promptly slipped your bonds, burnt down the whole building and escaped through a secret tunnel to an underground river where you took a canoe out to the sea and then worked passage on a fishing trawler until you arrived back in the south.’

‘More or less. Yes.’

‘Leo…why didn’t you just slip your bonds on the way through the desert?’

Leonardo had always been good at playing innocent. Even better at playing dumb. It had made him an excellent spy throughout the years, but Oz could see straight through him and they both knew it.

‘I’m going to paint a different picture, Leo. Will you correct me if I get parts of it wrong?’

‘Certainly.’

‘You weren’t ambushed by a dozen elite assassins in Vacuo. In fact, I’d say it was just one assassin. A leggy brunette with green eyes, perchance?’

‘Black hair, actually.’

‘Black hair,’ Ozpin corrected. ‘Who just so happened to find you the most dashing rogue in a bar full of them? Who just so happened to have a spare drink that she’d like to share with you? Who just so happened to laugh at all of your jokes, gasp at your stories and flutter her eyes whenever you gave her a charming smile?’

‘Oh come now, Oz, what kind of lecher do you think I am?’

‘The very common kind.’

‘I think you’re being very unkind,’ Leo folded his arms. ‘After I took a beating to keep your secrets…’

‘Was the beating to make you talk or wake you up?’

‘Burned down a very creepy temple that seemed dedicated to a certain clammy skinned bint…’

‘I’m guessing you knocked a lamp with your shoulder on the way out?’

‘And dodged assassination up until this most recent one about twenty minutes ago. All for you. To bring you my urgent report.’

‘You have once again bitten off more than you can chew and have come running straight to me for salvation?’

‘Fine,’ Leo huffed. ‘If you’re only going to sit there and find fault with my work, then I’ll just take my prisoner elsewhere.’

‘There’s no need to be dramatic, Leo,’ Oz sighed deeply. ‘Let me send Esma a message before we try interrogating her.’

He suddenly paused, scroll halfway out. ‘And how did you even get in here carrying an unconscious woman? I changed quarters last year during the renovations!’

‘I asked for directions from a very helpful young lady with silver eyes.’

‘Asked for…with _that?_ ’

‘Well I hid her in the rosebushes first, obviously!’ Leo snapped. ‘Could we please act like adults here, Oz? Things have gone badly, and I have some kind of cult on my tail. I barely got off the train in Vale before this one tried to stab me in a dark alleyway. I’ll take all the ribbing you have to offer once the danger is passed, but until then…’

‘Yes, yes, I apologise,’ Oz muttered. ‘There. Esma should be here in a few minutes. In the meantime, I want to know everything you saw in that temple. How could you tell it was linked to Salem?’

Leo glanced around uneasily. ‘Could you try not to say her name so casually?’

‘What? It’s not like she’s going to randomly appear just because I say Sal…’

 _‘Blasphemers!’_ A high pitch voice screeched.

Ozpin’s best jade flower vase hit Leo in the head a moment later.

\-----------------------

Esma opened the door into chaos.

Leonardo Lionheart was lying on the floor with a woman’s legs around his neck. After many missions with the young adventurer, she could safely say that it was not an entirely unfamiliar sight. Even the skin-tight black bodysuit she wore would not have been out of place, if some of his past conquests were anything to go by. And the less said about the handcuffs, the better.

What was strange was that Leo was screaming ‘Get her off! Get her off!’ with sheer terror whilst the woman was battering him about the head with a table lamp whilst screaming ‘Death to the blasphemer!’ in what could only be described as fanatical rage.

To complicate matters further, Ozpin was himself battering the woman about the head in turn with the end of his cane, his glasses lying shattered on the floor and his coat shredded around the cuffs.

‘Don’t just stand there, woman!’ Ozpin hissed. ‘Grab something heavy and hit her with it!’

\----------------------------

In the end, the heaviest object in the room had been Esma’s right fist. Even then, the assassin had taken an absurd amount of effort to subdue. Ozpin wasn’t sure whether he was out of shape or if the girl had simply been too devoted to her task to notice her aura breaking.

He slumped onto the couch next to Leo, now fully understanding why the man had seemed so jumpy. To be pursued by such a dogged foe was an unpleasantly familiar memory, scarcely something to be wished on anyone. Even Esma was nursing a fresh bruise on her cheek from a flailing heel.

Esma, being Esma, was more amused than upset.

‘So, who did you piss off this time?’

‘The Dustwind Sisterhood, if her fighting style was any indication,’ Oz scowled. ‘Leo, you unspeakable imbecile, you’ve gone and attacked a charity organisation.’

‘A what?’

‘The Dustwind Sisters are devoted to improving the lot of underprivileged women and girls in Vacuo. They are a quasi-spiritual semi-cloistered monastic order which focuses heavily on education, fostering and…’

‘And having giant statues of Salem in their foyers?’

‘How giant?’

‘Eight foot, easily.’

‘Hardly the biggest I’ve ever seen.’

‘Rubies for eyes.’

‘ _That_ is dedication. Perhaps I should start my own cult?’

‘You would look quite fetching as a statue.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Gentlemen, if you’re quite finished?’

Esma’s quiet growl brought both of them back to the matter at hand. The matter currently bound hand and foot to Ozpin’s significantly less fragile armchair, glaring at them with dark eyes. Oz would have liked to say that he was surprised that someone so small could contain so much hate, but it would have been a blatant falsehood. Such things had ceased to amaze him quite a few centuries ago.

‘Do you know who I am?’ He tried to keep his voice gentle, but the sheer rage with which she had ripped into Leonardo had been…quite something.

‘The Great Deceiver! The eternal enemy of the Great Mother!’

_‘Oh, charming,’ Oswald drawled. ‘So what’s this decade’s flavour? Death cult? Mass suicide pact? Perhaps human sacrifice again?’_

‘The Great Mother,’ Ozpin nodded, as if that made perfect sense. It did, but as always he was fairly certain that Salem had not awarded the title to herself. Why waste time coming up with a coherent belief system when you could simply let your followers build one around you? ‘And Leonardo has offended her, somehow?’

‘He has burned down her Grand Temple.’ The girl spat and rocked forward. ‘He has slain true believers on holy ground. He has…’

‘Grievous crimes indeed,’ Ozpin’s tone was grave. ‘I don’t suppose a written apology would suffice?’

‘My handwriting is quite elegant,’ Leo added.

Their prisoner looked at them with wide eyes, perhaps unsure if she should be shocked or enraged by their insolence. In the end, she settled for furious sputtering as the three of them moved to the far edge of the room. Esma, despite being the least wounded, seemed the most disturbed.

‘Leo,’ she started slowly. ‘What else did you see in that temple?’

‘A lot of girls.’ Whatever humour had been in his voice before was completely gone. ‘The youngest would have been about seven or eight. And it wasn’t just a temple. There were training grounds there. Barracks blocks. Large kitchens and dining halls. Enough to house a much larger force.’

‘Or a larger student body,’ Oz mused.

Esma had turned sheet white at the implications. ‘You think she’s using a cult to train fighters?’

‘I know that thirty years ago the Dustwind Sisters were cooking soup for weary travellers in their halfway houses, and that their martial skills were used to defend the innocent and the weak. They had an orphanage in the mountains where young girls were given protection and a good education. If Leo escaped from the same location I have in mind, then it has been callously defiled.’

His friend’s burly hands had bunched into fists, her knuckles turning white as her nails dug into her palm. ‘I’ll lead an expeditionary force myself.’

‘It may come to that, if Vacuo cannot muster sufficient hunters for the task.’ Ozpin glanced back at their captive and could not suppress a shudder. _She’s younger than any of my first-year students, but more vicious than the rest of them put together. Except Raven._

‘What do we do now?’ Leo concealed it well, but Oz could see the weariness seeping through his relaxed façade.

‘It’s too late for further planning.’ Oz decided. ‘I shall call the local constabulary to escort this one to a cell. Perhaps with a huntsman escort to be on the safe side.’

‘And tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow, my friend, the real work begins.’ Ozpin walked to the window and gazed out at the city. ‘I will not have much time.’

‘To find the cult?’

‘To find a man in the locker rooms. The doubles round starts at eight in the morning and young James has his first match at ten. That doesn’t leave me much time.’

‘To place a bet?’

‘To win one, actually.’ Ozpin smirked at Esma. She smirked right back.

‘Hah!’ Leo clutched his stomach with sudden mirth. ‘Who would be stupid enough to bet against you?'


	5. Jagged Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The price is paid for a pleasant evening. Tempers flare as Ironwood prepares for a doubles round with an unwilling teammate.
> 
> With the stakes rising, Ozpin is forced to make an agonising decision for the good of Beacon.

Glynda fell asleep and woke up with a smile on her face. Not a strange occurrence in and of itself. But certainly unexpected when the day that awaited her seemed certain to be a struggle. Her doubles round would doubtless be a savage bout, and the pressure would be on her to continue defending the home ground reputation. Nothing to be unduly alarmed about, but those who knew her best would have predicted her to be switched on. Focused. Aimed at her goals with the same relentless dedication that had pushed her from a hometown champion back at Watchtower to an almost legendary status amongst the hunters of Vale.

Instead, she airily hummed some earworm as she switched off her alarm and slipped out of bed. She continued humming during her shower, whilst she dried off and slipped into her combat uniform.

She arranged her hair as she normally did for combat, loose and flowing freely in easy curls down to her shoulders and took a moment to admire her reflection. Leaving her hair free was a vanity, true, even if she could flick it out of the way with a kinetically empowered wink of an eye. But then again, a huntress had to have some flair. Doctor Rizzo’s lesson had been clear enough on that point.

_‘A huntress must always appear professional. Your clothing and bearing must send that message. Steadfast in adversity. A lethal adversary to your foes. A shining light of hope to your friends. And of course, it never hurts to catch the eyes of eligible young huntsmen should you be in the mood.’_

Considering her mentor’s sense of style was almost as famous as her swordplay, Glynda had heeded her words. The rest of her combat outfit was ordinary enough, a black turtleneck with matching cargo pants and combat boots, with pouches for dust along the utility belt. But her hair stayed loose. Distinguishing her as much in appearance as her strength and skill.

She wondered if James would like it.

Her own thoughts caught her by surprise. Wondering if a boy would be paying attention to her? How silly. How juvenile. How ‘ _un-Glynda-like’_ , she imagined Lapis squealing. And yet, her smile didn’t fade, and her humming didn’t stop.

Spending a pleasant day with a pleasant young man wasn’t outside of the realms of her normal experiences. Contrary to what some of the first years liked to mutter, Glynda had both a personal life and the time to partake in it. She had friends in all years, many of them intelligent young men, and she’d even found time for dating in her loaded study schedule.

But Glynda was an honest woman, and she honestly had to admit to herself without embarrassment that she had enjoyed showing James around Beacon. She had enjoyed having lunch with him before touring the gardens. She’d enjoyed their dinner. She had _almost_ enjoyed watching the exhibition match (Raven would get hers much sooner than she expected) and walking him back to his rooms via the scenic route.

They’d swapped ideas, debated others, compared combat tactics and discussed the price of dust in Mistral. Even Lapis, with her head in the sky and her mind in the gutter, would have been hard pressed to find anything flirtatious about their interactions.

So why did she feel like she was floating on a cloud? And why had her dreams been filled with sky blue eyes and a bashful smile? Why couldn’t she stop smiling herself?

These were mysteries that she knew couldn’t be solved by waiting in front of the mirror. With a final check of her outfit, she gave a satisfied nod and proceeded out the bathroom door.

‘Sorry I took so long,’ she began. ‘I…’

‘Glynda!’ Lapis grabbed her shoulders so suddenly she was afraid of whiplash. ‘I swear, by everything I hold sacred in this life…which, y’know, isn’t too much, that it wasn’t me.’

Glynda stared at her blankly. ‘Wasn’t you what?’

Her friend’s grip relaxed a fraction. ‘You…you haven’t seen it?’

‘Haven’t seen what?’ Glynda finally felt her good mood dissipating as she took in the aura of the room. Ymir and Rajah were steadfastly refusing to meet her gaze, whilst Lapis herself was becoming increasingly nervous.

‘Well, um, I guess you don’t frequent some of the more…random boards,’ Lapis began. She awkwardly held up her scroll. ‘It’s not normally this rowdy…’

‘ _Huntress-in-training memes for Beacon teens?_ ’ Glynda read the title of the page. ‘What in the world…?’

The scroll showed an image that someone must have taken quite close. It was her and James in the stands, her hand dipping into the popcorn bucket resting on his leg and her head thrown back in apparent laughter at a joke he’d cracked and his eyes resting on her with a slight smirk. It was innocent enough.

The comments beneath it were not.

_-ohohoh, why can’t I find someone to look at me like that?-_

_-What? Like you’re a thick piece of steak?-_

_-hey, Q, be respectful, that’s Goodwitch. Besides, HE is most definitely the piece of steak. -_

_-I’ll be real, they’re cute together uwu-_

_-Everyone shut up, I just saw them walking past. Holding hands, swear to the Good Brother-_

_-FOLLOW AND REPORT, SOLDIER!-_

_-do no such thing, pervert-_

_-Don’t be such a prude, Sum. Some of us want to find out why he’s called ‘Ironwood’-_

_-probably because that’s his name, dumbass-_

The tag lines revealed quite a few names she knew. And quite a few others that she didn’t, but could guess belonged to the visiting students. The initial photo, however, had been posted anonymously. Glynda didn’t need a name to know who the guilty party was.

Red mist began to tinge at the edges of her vision as her team quietly shuffled out of her way.

It would nicely match the red eyes of the girl she was going to strangle.

\-----------------------------------

Test and adjust. Test and adjust. The words weren’t the official motto of the Atlesian military, but everyone from the rawest recruit to the most decorated special operative had them absorbed into their soul until it was as good as part of their aura.

For James, that meant getting up an hour before dawn and doing a series of mobility exercises to warm up his muscles and work out any kinks in his joints. Anything that twinged or ached unnecessarily was targeted with a foam roller and a heat compress. It meant a lean breakfast of sourdough toast and poached eggs, nothing unnecessarily fatty or greasy that might induce lethargy once the match kicked off. It meant slow, steady hydration as he changed into his combat uniform and took the first air taxi up to Amity to commence his battle preparation.

A quick clean of his weapon and a drop of lubrication on each moving part, then eighteen rounds at five metres, then more at ten, twenty, thirty, forty and fifty from standing, kneeling and prone firing positions. He drilled his quickdraw, his reload, offhand shooting and compromised positions.

By the end of the hour, James had gone through seven boxes of dust rounds, run every basic drill in the book a dozen times and had tweaked his sights until they were landing hits within millimetres of his point of aim. He cleaned and oiled his weapon once more, then made sure the quick release on the hard plastic shell of his holster was equally well greased. His pistol belt and combat vest were loaded up with his speed-loaders and specialty rounds. His aura was fully charged. He even double checked his boots for any wear in the soles. Short of having someone shoot at him, his neural pathways were as primed for combat as he could possibly make them.

Technically it was far more effort than his usual preparation. Closer to a training session than a warmup. A session that wouldn’t have been necessary if he’d just done what he was supposed to do and _train_ the previous day.

The stupidity of it had struck him soon after he returned to his quarters the previous night. Aqua and Dandy were still absent, but Gloria had been solidly asleep when Glynda finally escorted him back to his room.

What a rapid descent back into reality her grumpy stare had caused when he accidentally tripped and woke her up. One frosty glance and James had plummeted from the elysian cloud he’d been floating on since dinnertime straight back down into the world where he’d wasted a whole day of training in favour of fraternising with the leader of a rival team.

Gloria had not been shy with her opinions about that. Still wasn’t, really.

Her sideways stare as he entered the locker room could not rightly be called a glare. There wasn’t enough emotion in it. That worried him more than he’d willingly admit.

‘You good to go?’

‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ she replied. A final keen eye cast over her sword’s edge, she returned it to the sheathe with barely a hint of sound from steel on leather.

James caught her arm as she was leaving. ‘I need you to follow my lead out there. We may need to change things up on the fly. Keep your eyes on the goal.’

Her face twisted in sudden anger, but he didn’t release his grip. Not until she wrenched free and shoved him back until he hit the lockers.

‘You’re one to talk about keeping your eyes on the goal,’ she growled. ‘What the hell was yesterday about? Prancing around with the Beacon head girl, simpering over lunch with her. You could have been training.’

James’ face flushed. Anger welled alongside shame in his belly. He couldn’t exactly write off what she’d said. ‘My personal life is none of your concern. Miss Goodwitch was simply showing me around.’

‘Sure. By the way you were grinning like a dopey idiot it must have been a really good tour.’

‘You watch your mouth!’

‘Why? No one else is. We’re the only other Atlas team that made it past the first round, _everyone_ is watching us. Watching you. Every group chat I’m in has been blowing up since you first got spotted eating with her. Bunch of stupid jokes about ‘getting good-wood’. Now I don’t care who you get busy with and where, but I’ll be damned if it’ll be at my expense.’

James twitched furiously as he stopped himself from shooting forward. ‘I don’t give a damn what any of them think. Or what you think.’

‘I think it’s pretty obvious you don’t care what anybody thinks except you.’ Gloria’s hand fell to her sword. The move was so unexpected, so aggressive, that his own hand immediately shot halfway to his holster before he realised she was just resting her hand on the hilt.

But she’d still noticed his move. Eyes narrowing, her fingers wrapped around the sharkskin grip. ‘Is that how it is? Maybe I should have expected it. I heard all about what happened to your old team, Jimmy!’

Restraint was forgotten. His leather-gloved hand went straight for the polymer grip. ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘Excuse me.’ A mild voice spoke from the doorway. ‘Am I interrupting something?’

James’ head swivelled to see the new arrival. After a moment, Gloria did likewise. Professor Ozpin stood in the doorway, both hands folded across his cane and his glasses resting on the tip of his nose.

‘Well?’ The headmaster pressed. ‘For a moment, I thought I saw two hunters-in-training about to draw weapons on each other in a locker room. A most unfortunate decision, since I would be forced to disqualify both from continuing in this tournament.’

Gloria relaxed first. ‘It was nothing. Just a disagreement.’

‘Indeed.’ It took a moment of concentration for James to release his fingers from where they’d seized up.

‘I see…’ Ozpin pushed into the locker room. ‘Well then, Miss Kyle, I’m sure I shouldn’t keep you from your warmups.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And Miss Kyle?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Disparage Miss Goodwitch’s character again in public and, regardless of your academy, I assure you that you will deeply regret it.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Please carry on.’

Her departure deflated the tension in James’ lungs, a long slow exhalation of intent that followed him woozily down onto the bench with his head between his hands. He wouldn’t have drawn. He wouldn’t. It was just posturing. Two angry idiots with too much on the line. That was it.

‘I expected better.’ Ozpin’s quiet declaration deflated him faster than an air bubble.

‘I know.’ It was a pathetic response. It also the only one James could muster.

‘I don’t think you do,’ Ozpin turned back to him. ‘I hear a very common excuse whenever I call a hunter-in-training up to my office, Mr. Ironwood. When I ask why they should remain a student in my academy, most immediately point to their combat training and mission scores. _See, sir, I’m a very good fighter._ ’

His knuckles had turned white from his grip on the cane. ‘I _know_ they are a good fighter. I _trained_ them to be a good fighter. Either personally or through my methods. Just like I trained hundreds of others and will likely train hundreds more.’

‘Sir, I…’

‘Beacon. Atlas. Haven. Shade. Four years at any of these academies could turn a bumbling idiot into a fearsome warrior. What I ask my students to bring here is not their skills or their advanced weaponry. All of these we can give them over time.’

Ozpin stared at him. James couldn’t help but quail under the quiet rage flaring behind those peaceful eyes.

‘What I ask my students to bring to the table, Mr. Ironwood, is who they are. That’s all I need. That’s all the world needs. A person of good character. Maybe I have misjudged yours?’

 _It was unfair!_ James wanted to protest. He hadn’t started the confrontation. He hadn’t made her insult Glynda or talk about…talk about them. It was juvenile. No better than _she started it_ on the playground.

‘Maybe you have.’ It was all he could say.

They waited, brown eyes meeting blue as bare fingers and leather gloves balled into fists. James broke first. How could he not? There was more than just the weight of age to the professor’s stare. Those eyes stared to the bottom of James’ heart and found everything they saw there wanting.

The clock on the wall beeped a warning. He had little time left. A few minutes to get to the starting area. No time to strategise. What had he been thinking? How could they possibly win without a plan? Without time? It was hopeless. It was already done bar the defeat. Why not throw the match now and just get it over with?

‘James.’

His eyes turned upwards at the sound of his name. The anger had faded from Ozpin’s face. In a moment, his face was calm, studious. He stood over James like the stoic heroes of ancient Mantle. No longer judging, but assessing.

Then he slumped down onto the bench next to him and took a long slurp of his cocoa.

‘Perhaps this was all tempers running high before a bout.’ Ozpin concluded. ‘Worry not. You are hardly the first man to almost come to blows with a sister before the battle begins.’

‘Sir…what she said…’

‘I heard,’ Ozpin said. ‘And I heard you in turn. She is not the only woman in this world with a sharp tongue, I would advise you prepare yourself to deal with them sooner rather than later.’

‘And I’m supposed to just let it slide?’

‘Oh, far worse than that.’ Ozpin’s lips creased in a faint smile. ‘There is a radical path to victory here, James. But it will only be open for a very short while.’

\------------------------------

The crowd roared. Less, perhaps, than for the previous bout, but in arena like Amity it was enough to shake the ground beneath their feat.

Gloria Kyle and James Ironwood stormed out of the entrance tunnel with stony faces. The Atlas students cheered for them, the teams from Shade jeered with vigour, Haven offered a polite round of applause. Vale was a strange combination, a mixture of indifference, enthusiasm and hostility.

James could only presume that most of that last one was directed at him. If he could hazard a guess, there were more than a few rejected suitors of Glynda Goodwitch in that portion of the crowd. Or, equally possible, more than a few of her good friends who felt an Atlas boy wasn’t good enough for her.

How could he explain to them that he’d simply been enjoying a tour around Beacon with a respected peer?

 _And finding every possible reason to keep that tour going,_ the little voice in him that insisted on dragging out the truth whenever he tried lying to himself wasn’t about to let him start now.

Yes. Fine. He’d found her attractive. Enchanting, charismatic, graceful, etc. Every quality that he didn’t have and never would. James had stolen an evening of her time because he didn’t want what he was feeling to stop. And now she was facing ridicule from her peers and classmates because of it.

That smarted just as badly as Gloria’s taunts.

He glanced at the woman beside him and frowned on reflex. Her sword was already out, her legs restless and her shoulders twitching with the coiled-up energy of a predator catching the scent.

Gloria was the better fighter. Had he drawn on her in the locker rooms, she would have flattened him. Leaving Atlas with its final team knocked out of the running. Disgraced. A laughingstock All because he couldn’t get his team to work together. Because he had failed.

The shame of it made him cringe away. He thought of what Ozpin had said. His suggested path to victory. It wouldn’t work. Ozpin just didn’t know either of them as well as he seemed to think.

As basic as it was, Gloria’s strategy was sound. James would keep the stronger opponent busy whilst she wiped out the weaker. Then she would come to his aid. Hopefully before he was knocked out again in front of Glynda…

 _Stop thinking about her_. The voice that was both conscience and common sense tried to make its will known, but it could not stop him from scanning the crowds for her. Did she know yet? Did she blame him? Would she even want to talk to him again after…?

_‘Ladies and gentlemen, with Doctor Amitavo still slightly hoarse from his exhibition match last night, I am pleased to once more introduce myself, the inestimable Taiyang Xiao-Long and my lovely partner, the fearsome Raven Branwen, back as your commentators for today’s matches.’_

_‘The only inestimable thing about you is your ego.’_

_‘I just complimented you!’_

_‘Do more of that. Less of the other thing.’_

\----------------------------------------

Leo sipped a strong, smooth and truly well-earned mug of coffee as he relaxed in the plush leather armchair afforded to him as a visiting guest in the staff booth. Despite Ozpin’s needling, he’d been afforded every comfort in Beacon’s VIP accommodation. A plush bed, a hot breakfast and, most importantly, the knowledge that any assassins would have to go through hundreds of hunters and hunters-in-training to get at him had done wonders for his mood.

He glanced up as Oz entered the booth. ‘So, how was your little chat with your current passion project?’

Ozpin’s low growl was enough to make even Leo wince. ‘That bad?’

‘If I go grey before I’m forty, Leo, please note that the cause will be boys and girls who think themselves wise because they are no longer teenagers.’

‘Now, now.’ Leo reached out to pat him on the shoulder. ‘You had to take me in hand at that age as well.’

‘Yes, but you at least had a firm understanding of your own limitations. That boy…’

‘Less than receptive to your advice?’

‘I swear, what is the point of acquiring the wisdom of many lifetimes if people are then going to insist that they do not require it?’

‘Perhaps because to the casual bystander you have only the average decrepitude one tends to see in every man in his late thirties…’

‘ _Mid_ -thirties, thank you.’

‘That, and your advice tends to be vague and confusing. But if, by some miracle, what you said happened to be of some use, you’re always there to pick up the credit. You’re like a fisherman who casts a very wide net and then proclaims himself a genius if he gets so much as one fish.’

‘I’d argue that depends on the size of the fish,’ Ozpin groused. ‘But on this occasion my advice was specific and to the point. It’s his own fault if he doesn’t listen to it. I swear, Esma wasn’t half right about the boy…’

‘Speaking of, where is the good colonel?’

‘She’s supervising young Taiyang and Raven. I decided to let them commentate again.’

‘Students? Why’s that?’

‘Because our scroll feeds went up by over sixty percent thanks to their commentary last night. Some of the notes we received from the broadcaster were quite cutting about the previous standards. Esma is just making sure they don’t go too far.’

‘But why does the scroll feed matter so…’

‘Because the coffee doesn’t pay for itself, Leo!’

\------------------------------------------

_‘And their opponents from Shade Academy! Merlot and Hickory Hobbes! The Bash Brothers of Team Mahogany!’_

_‘That’s not their nickname.’_

_‘I’m doing my best with the script I’ve got, ma’am.’_

James laid eyes on their opponents and knew their strategy wasn’t going to work.

They’d depended on delaying the strong one and eliminating the weak one to throw off their enemy’s plan. There’d just been one slight snag in Ironwood’s planning (not that he’d done much). He’d assumed there would _be_ a strong one and a weak one.

He hadn’t counted that they’d both be strong.

Very strong.

Rhino strong, as a matter of fact. James wasn’t overly familiar with how faunus traits demonstrated and evolved themselves (biology had never been his strong suit), but he could take a quick guess from one man’s thick, leathery skin and the small horn in the centre of the other man’s head at their particular traits.

They were also eight feet tall and as wide as him and Gloria put together.

‘Gloria, we need to change it up,’ he hissed. ‘This won’t work.’

Pressuring the weak one and distracting the strong one wasn’t going to work when there _wasn’t_ a weak one to pressure. The one on the left, Merlot, had an M77 machine gun chambered in 12.7mm. Hickory was even worse, a belt-fed 40mm automatic grenade launcher resting against his shoulder as he waved up at the crowd. Both weapons were meant to be mounted on armoured vehicles or fired from heavy tripods. Their opponents weren’t just man-packing heavy weaponry, they were also carrying a substantial amount of ammunition in their monstrous backpacks.

One burst could cut down an Ursa. Sustained fire from one could demolish a Deathstalker. Combined fire from both would bring down a Nevermore.

It’d do far worse to them.

Gloria glanced at him, and for a moment he hoped he’d gotten through. Her eyes had widened at the sight of so much firepower, fingers twitching on her sword hilt as she no doubt calculated exactly how many hits her aura could withstand from either the heavy machine gun or the automatic grenade launcher. She had to reach the same conclusion as him, that whatever ‘strategy’ they had managed to agree on had just flown out the window.

‘Which one do you want, Hick? The boy or the girl.’ The one with the horn pointed between them.

‘Aw, I’d feel bad messing up a pretty face like that.’ The other hefted his grenade launcher. ‘I’ll take the girl.’

The microphones caught every word, of course, and the crowd roared with laughter. Gloria’s face darkened with fresh anger. Ironwood knew she didn’t care for the insult, but the fact that the crowd were laughing at _her_ …she’d exact her payback for it.

‘Hey, you’re Ironwood, right?’ Merlot, he thought, nodded at his hip. ‘Nice piece. Mantle Foundries? MF-Seven Hundred?’

‘Six-Fifty,’ Ironwood replied cautiously.

‘Oh, a man with a respect for the classics,’ Merlot grinned. ‘Well, my Dad always did say: Shop Atlas for the best guns.’

‘Sounds like a wise man.’ Ironwood’s return smile was slightly relieved. _Maybe it was just a throwaway joke before?_ Was there any reason this couldn’t just be a friendly bout between aspiring huntsmen? The Great War was long over, and any bad blood between Vacuo and Atlas was exactly what the Vytal Festival was designed to ease.

‘Yep. He also said to shop Vale for the best women.’

Ironwood’s smile froze.

‘Looks like you’re a man after his heart, eh? I gotta say, the Golden Girl of Beacon? You’ve got champagne tastes, friend, and I can respect that. Mind if I call you Jimmy?’

‘My friends call me James.’ He settled onto the balls of his feet, hand dropping low until it hovered over his grips. ‘To you? It’s Ironwood.’

Merlot’s smile turned savage. He lowered his machine gun in front of him and racked the cocking lever. ‘Let’s dance, pretty boy.’

The environmental controls spun into action. As each symbol locked into place, the arena whirred and shifted as mechanisms began to reach down into the colosseum’s storage areas and elevate the chosen landscapes into view.

Urban. Jungle. Mountain. And…amusement park?

Up in the stands, Ozpin smacked his hand against his forehead.

‘Esma promised she’d take that one out!’

The siren sounded and the arena erupted into gunfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin's mistakes are legion. Letting Tai and Raven commentate in order to attract more viewers shall forever be his most fatal error.
> 
> For those interested, Merlot's weapon is based on the M2 Browning .50 cal (with some added features of course), whilst Hickory has a Mark 47 Automatic Grenade Launcher. Use of these weapons in a man-portable role is...discouraged.


	6. No Half-Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resentment paralyses strength. Bitterness hamstrings intellect. Thrown into battle against a stronger team, Ironwood is forced to choose a radical path to victory.
> 
> The price of victory is not always paid in iron and blood.

They charged the moment the buzzer sounded, James shooting from the hip as he moved to close the distance. Gloria sidestepped to throw off their aim and raced toward her own opponent.

The combined fire of the heavy machine gun and grenade launcher didn’t just stall their advance. It threw them head over heels backwards, sprawling against the edge of the arena. James yelped as his right knee bashed against the ground hard enough to make the patella ache.

Gloria was back on her feet first, sword twirling to deflect another burst of gunfire before she once more sprinted toward the pair.

‘Wait!’ James struggled to regain his feet, only to be bowled over by another burst of grenades. Moments later Gloria was likewise blasted to the ground, shrapnel pinging off her aura like a hoard of stinging gnats.

Next to that kind of firepower, his revolver might as well have been a cap gun. Hollow points, tungsten penetrators, any conventional round he had would just bounce off aura that strong. He had his special rounds, of course. High explosive, ice, earth and electricity, but only six of each. If he fired all of them off at once he’d have nothing left.

He saw Gloria attempting to circle right. He ran left, hoping to outflank. Hickory and Merlot Hobbes merely spun to cover each other’s backs, hosing both of their assailants with streams of automatic fire until James had no choice but to seek cover in the fringe of the amusement park.

\---------------------------

Lapis sunk her head into her hands as the opening moves of the fight played out before them. ‘I’m sorry to say this, Glyn, but your new boyfriend sucks at fighting.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’

‘So you admit he sucks at fighting?’

That Glynda was able to resist the growing homicidal urges in her heart was a testament to her dignity and intelligence, as far as she was concerned. Dignity not to break down in public, intelligent enough not to leave evidence for the police. Once more she had to remind herself that Lapis hadn’t been the one to kick off the rumour mill.

Not that she was remotely ashamed of the time she’d spent in James’ company. They had both acted like the mature, aspiring professionals that they were. It was everyone else that had decided to act like gossiping dock workers over a few meals and an extended conversation.

That her cheeks heated up at the implication was anger at the slight against her reputation and his, nothing more.

Lapis was right, though. The fight had barely started and already Team JAGD’s aura was plummeting. If James had planned a strategy, it was either so esoteric that not even Glynda could pick it, or Gloria wasn’t obeying it.

None of her team was smiling, something Glynda was thankful for. They, at least, hadn’t mistaken her intentions. Lapis eyed the battle with the critical eye of an experienced combatant. And what she found there was wanting.

‘They’re not going to last another two minutes unless they find some cover.’

It wasn’t cover they needed. It was a plan that didn’t involve charging into the muzzles of heavy weaponry.

\-------------------------

‘Fight him in the jungle!’

‘Get off me!’

‘Stay down!’ James kept her from jumping out of the concrete barrier he’d hidden behind. ‘We’re going to get slaughtered if we keep charging them together. If we split up then at least they can’t combine their fire!’

Gloria stared at him, then back at the arena. He was the last person in the world she wanted to listen to right now. They both knew it. But she wasn’t an idiot and she had to know he wasn’t one either.

‘There’s more cover in the rocks.’

‘His grenade launcher will have an airburst setting. He’ll just rain shrapnel on you. You need top cover from the canopy.’

It was tactically solid. She just had to trust that he wasn’t using her as bait. She had to stop being angry at him.

But he had to stop first.

They were out of time. James broke right and sprinted hard toward the edge of the arena. 12.7mm rounds zipped past his heels. His aura might take a couple of shots, but even plain tungsten rounds would bowl him head over heels.

He needed cover. And since the urban maze he’d prefer was behind the opposing team, that meant the amusement park was the next best thing.

He tried not to think about what kind of sick mind would think that a large Ferris wheel, a roller coaster and a wave pool made for a good combat scenario.

There was no looking back. If Gloria hadn’t followed his orders then it was already too late.

\----------------------------

‘In my defense, I didn’t think she’d actually put it in there!’ Ozpin growled as Leo stared blankly at him. ‘What I said was ‘wouldn’t it be funny if we included a rollercoaster in the arena?’ Clearly she agreed.’

Leo looked back down into the arena. Ironwood had ducked behind the rotating wheel, narrowly dodging the stream of tracers chasing after him. The whole contraption shuddered as the high-calibre rounds perforated the support beams, listing to the left as its weight began to shift.

‘Atlas has gone mad with power,’ Leo whispered.

\-------------------------

‘Gloria Kyle has booked it into the jungle like Barty Oobleck books it out of date night when a girl tries holding hands with him,’ Tai called into the microphone. ‘I gotta say, I thought she’d be a bit nervous to go back into a vegetated area after her wooden performance the other night, but I’m glad to see that she’s dusted herself off and gotten back to her roots.’

Raven tried not to wince too badly as Tai continued to rattle off his mouth faster than the machine gun down in the arena. There was a beast inside every man, she thought, and it was unleashed when you put a microphone in his hand. Show that his chatter was having an effect and he’d only get worse.

‘Now, we have Colonel Esmeralda Fang of Atlas Academy in the commentary booth with us today. Colonel, can you tell us why you chose to include an amusement park in the rotation system for the arena?’

‘Well, Mr. Xiao Long, these arenas were designed by a top team of Atlas scientists. They sorted through hundreds of hours of combat footage against the Grimm and these arenas were then constructed with a mixture of the most common environments in which one was likely to encounter Grimm.’

Raven glanced at the arena data in front of her. ‘Wait, there’s a note on this one.’

‘The note is unimportant.’

‘It says _“It was funny while it lasted, guys, now take it out of the rotation before the tournament.”’_

‘Likely a typo from one of the staff.’

‘It’s got your name on it.’

‘What? Oh, no, that’s Colonel E. _Feng_. He’s my top man in research and development. I overruled him in this instance.’

Raven’s eyes narrowed. ‘So you wanted to include a rollercoaster and a wave pool because…’

‘A hunter must be prepared to fight in any environment, any situation and circumstance.’

‘Right. Including an amusement park.’ Raven deadpanned.

Colonel Fang stared right back. ‘Amusement parks are crammed with negativity, Miss Branwen. Screaming children. Anxious parents. Vending machines that swallow lien and then get the bag of chips stuck.’

Raven finally took her boots off the desk to glare at the Atlas headmistress. ‘Why can’t you just admit that you forgot to take it out of the rotation?’

‘The Atlesian military doesn’t make mistakes,’ the older woman said solemnly.

‘Oh you stubborn old…’

‘Would you look at that!’ Tai grabbed Raven’s arm and forced her back to the microphone. ‘Ironwood is running away! Again.’

Raven glared at him, but accepted that it wasn’t a fight she was going to win. ‘Yep. Running. Real great strategy. Sure hope he doesn’t run out of energy before the big guy runs out of bullets.’

\-------------------------

The big guy wasn’t running out of bullets.

James had studied the tabulated data for every weapon in the arsenal of the Atlas Defence Force. Their rate of fire. Their standard first line ammunition. What effects you could expect on a target and how to calculate a support-by-fire mission.

All of that was more than slightly irrelevant when your opponent was strong enough to haul around a weapon that normally took a team of infantrymen to carry and operate. He didn’t have the first clue just how much ammunition the man was carrying, what his capabilities were or even what is fighting style was.

A burst of armour-piercing incendiaries slammed into the concrete where he was crouching and spattered him with dust and rocks. It could have been that the man’s fighting style was simply ‘shoot him until he stopped moving’. It was basic, but, given James had spent the opening minutes of the fight trying to get anywhere else but the man’s gunsights, it was working passably well.

‘You know, me and Hick were really hoping we’d get to test ourselves against KING.’ Merlot Hobbes called in between spurts of gunfire. ‘This kind of feels a little easy. Like we’re just dipping our toes into the high school circuit.’

James saw his opportunity in between the bursts. Rolling from his cover behind the support struts of the roller-coaster, he snapped off two rounds at Merlot’s chest. Neither so much as staggered him. Aura could reduce damage, but it couldn’t stop everything. For the man to shrug off two direct impacts was…disheartening.

But inflicting damage had only been a secondary purpose. As he slid behind a new bunker, he flicked open the cylinder and let the rest of his rounds drop out along with the empty casings. Colonel Fang would have scolded him terribly for wasting live rounds, but the amount of ammunition he had left would be a moot point if he didn’t even survive the round.

He reloaded on instinct, his eyes elsewhere as his hands worked the routine he’d practiced slow, fast and blindfolded until it was locked into his neural pathways as naturally as breathing.

_‘Y’know, I gotta say, in a job filled with swords that can turn into guns, axes that can turn into guns and pocket knives that can turn into artillery pieces, does an itty-bitty pistol really match up?’_

_‘You fight bare-handed, Tai.’_

_‘Yeah, but that’s a conscious choice. Ironwood looks like the guy that rocked up at the gunstore after everyone else had already picked one and that was the only one left.’_

_‘I…actually agree with you on that one. Is he really just going to try chipping away at his aura with standard hollow-points?’_

_‘Not sure. Anyway, looks like Gloria’s getting to grip with her opponent in the jungle.’_

James took aim and fired.

The high-explosive rounds slammed home into their target and detonated. Merlot’s aura remained undamaged, but that didn’t matter. James hadn’t been aiming at him, he’d been aiming upwards.

The Ferris wheel creaked and groaned as its support struts, already battered by gunfire, strained and snapped. Tension cables, suddenly freed from their moorings, whipped around the arena like angry snakes. James heard Merlot cry out as one struck him in the side, and then he was moving. His opponent saw the move and turned to fire. James saw the first tongues of flame shoot from the muzzle and knew he wouldn’t make it.

The horrible scream of twisting and tortured metal drowning out the gunfire made both of them look up.

The Ferris wheel came crashing down on top of them.

\--------------------------------

Ozpin stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘That was certainly an interesting tactic.’

Leo stared down at the arena with mounting horror. ‘Oz, he just destroyed an amusement park!’

‘Yes, I think he’s finally letting his creative side out.’

‘But that kind of destruction…’

‘Excessive, perhaps, in normal circumstances,’ Oz said. ‘But the battle was very much not in James’ favour. Rather than try to batter through his opponent’s defences, he instead chose to reshape the field to increase his own.’

Leo settled back in his chair, taking a deep sip of his coffee as he reconsidered the arena. The wheel had brought down most of the rollercoaster with it, part of it now dangling off the edge of outer ring. It had turned an open and exposed killing ground into a maze of tangled steel and collapsed beams through which Merlot Hobbes was now forced to search for his quarry.

‘It just feels like a lot of unnecessary destruction, even for a desperate fight,’ he finally said. ‘As huntsmen, aren’t we meant to preserve where we can? Inspire with hope, not force?’

‘Always,’ Oz said immediately. ‘Immediately and without fail, wherever we can.’

‘And yet you still find his efforts praiseworthy?’

Oz grinned slyly. ‘Ah, this is the part where you accuse me of making a nuisance of myself, is it not? Tell me, Leo, what do you do when you face an enemy you have no chance of defeating?’

‘I run in the opposite direction as fast as I can,’ Leo replied immediately. ‘Preferably with as much smoke as possible between me and them.’

‘But always with the intent on fighting them again on more favourable terms?’

‘Sure. Why not.’

‘But James cannot run. Not forever. And if he cannot beat his opponent through force, then he must defeat him through strategy. A cunning plan is often the only solution to defeating an opponent who has you completely outmatched.’

‘Right…but what is his plan?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘…no.’ Leo narrowed his eyes. ‘You have no idea, do you?’

‘More coffee?’

‘Please.’

\----------------------------

_‘It appears that Atlas Academy has trained its students very well in the art of running…’_

_‘Mr Xiao Long!’_

_‘Ah…the art of not getting hit? By moving away from opponent laterally and diagonally?’_

Gloria ducked as another stream of grenades exploded in the trees behind her. In a forested area, the airburst rounds might have send splinters of wood fragmenting in every direction. In the dense canopy of the jungle, however, the fragmentation was soaked up by thick vines and drooping foliage.

James had been right, much as she hated to admit it. Unable to get a direct hit on her, Hickory Hobbes had simply changed the settings on his grenade launcher in order to try hitting her from above instead. Among the rocks, she would have been shredded. In the jungle she was just getting by.

She tried closing the distance again, circling to his right in order to break off the natural line and throw off his accuracy. He didn’t fall for it, firing a trio of ice-grenades ahead of her to form a wall at chest height. She mantled it easily, then threw up a hard-light buckler to fend off another high explosive blast.

Gloria could have choked on her frustration. If she could just get within longsword range then her superior speed and technique would make short work of her opponent. He outweighed her, yes, but she’d demolished dozens of boys and girls who were both stronger _and_ faster than her on the competition circuit. The trouble was that he seemed to know that as well.

The trick with a larger opponent was to let their own over-confidence destroy them. Stay outside arms reach, beyond the range of whatever great sword or battle-axe they had brought along until they were tired, then strike like a whirlwind.

The problem in that scenario was that it ran into issue when the larger opponent was fully aware of that strategy and had taken steps to counter it. Steps like bringing a weapon that had an effective range of over two kilometres. Steps like deliberately tiring out a faster, more agile opponent.

The doubt she’d been ignoring, pushing down and bottling up since her knockout a few days earlier was beginning to escape its bindings. Her aura had been chipped almost into yellow. Her opponents was a bright, mocking green. She couldn’t get close, she couldn’t run away, and he still hadn’t run out of ammo.

She needed to change tactics.

\------------------------------

Qrow Branwen leaned forward in his chair and frowned. Well, frowned deeper anyway. Summer could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t frowning (aside from when Tai had thrown that surprise birthday party for him, but that had been more of a panicked expression rather than a delighted smile).

That wasn’t to say Summer thought that he was mopey. A little withdrawn, a tad socially awkward, but most of the time her partner was even-tempered. Qrow frowned when he was confused and much about Beacon (and the outside world in general) confused him. Little tricks of language, little customs that escaped him, elements of social courtesy that he didn’t quite see the purpose of. Raven had adapted simply by watching. Qrow required a slightly firmer hand.

Some of the lessons she had taught had been simple. The difference between a skirt and a kilt had been the first (for which she had punished Tai savagely in the sparring grounds). Others, like eating with cutlery instead of bare hands, had been a little harder to get across, but she had delivered it with good grace and patience.

Explaining why he couldn’t just wander into the bathroom when she was in the shower had been delivered with a torrent of curses and thrown bars of soap.

Summer didn’t know why inflicting violence on her brother had finally broken the ice between her and Raven…well, she knew _why,_ she just wasn’t comfortable with it.

With their doubles round not until the afternoon, they’d decided to view the morning matches before their warmups. It would help Qrow once he moved onto the singles rounds. That, and listening to Taiyang and Raven’s commentary was far better entertainment than lounging around with a comic book.

‘So, she’s meant to be a competition champion, right?’ Qrow leaned back. Two rows behind them, a boy yelped as his girlfriend accidentally dropped a cold drink onto his pants. ‘Shouldn’t she be dominating this match?’

‘The competition circuit isn’t everything,’ Summer said. She fidgeted with the hem of her cloak, breathing in sharply as she watched Gloria dive into a creekline to avoid the next barrage of grenades.

‘Right…didn’t you compete?’

‘In my second year at Signal.’ Summer sighed at the memory. ‘I wasn’t a good fit. Drew or lost about half of my matches, I wasn’t very good back then.’

That didn’t confuse so much as outright surprise him. ‘But you’re amazing.’

She blushed a little. Not so much at the compliment but at the matter-of-fact way that he said it. Like it was an immutable fact of the universe like the sun in the sky or the green of the grass.

‘I wasn’t bad,’ she amended. ‘But the competition fights aren’t quite like this. There’s no environments or structure. Just you and your opponent in a small ring. Most people fight like Gloria. Sword, shield, close range firearm, that kind of thing. My fighting style just wasn’t suited to it.’

‘And hers isn’t suited for this,’ Qrow flinched as another string of detonations sent the girl in the arena flying out of the creekline she’d sheltered in. ‘She needs to get closer.’

\-----------------

Hickory shook his head as he advanced on his opponent. He’d studied footage of all the best contenders for the Vytal Festival for months now, coming up with counter-strategies for the most dangerous ones. Glynda Goodwitch, Gloria Kyle, Ethan Iris. Any one of them would have been a tough battle. To his surprise, Gloria wasn’t half the opponent he had expected.

Perhaps in the singles round it would have been different, the cramped arena hemming them against each other in an all out close-quarters brawl. As it was, her lack of a longer-range option had forced her on the defensive until now she was flat on her back in the mud, her sword just out of arms reach.

He shifted his grenade launcher into battle-axe mode, spinning it into position for a finishing strike.

‘I’d prefer not to have to lay into a downed opponent,’ Hickory said. ‘Do you surrender?’

Gloria raised a shaking hand in a very rude gesture. Hickory shrugged in return. ‘Your choice, then.’

The crowd gasped as he raised the axe. With her aura well in the yellow, such a powerful stroke might do real injury. Hickory ignored them. He knew his own strength and knew how to rein it in. Just a quick finisher and then…

She twisted out of the way with a sudden burst of energy. In truth he’d half been expecting it, watching for her sword out the corner of his eye. It surprised him, then, that she hadn’t jumped for the sword.

Instead, she’d gone to the right, grabbing a small branch that had been felled in their fighting. Hickory watched her swing coming with amusement, not even bothering to block or dodge. He felt the pliable wood bounce off his aura, and a slight tickle as the heart shaped leaves and pink berries slapped against his face.

His screams ripped through the arena a moment later.

\---------------------------------

Leo looked on in incredulity as the tall boy from Vacuo fell to his knees and tore away the leaves that had touched his face, screaming again as they touched his bare hands. He was almost clawing at his cheeks, his yells growing even more frantic as he tried to wipe something away.

From the commentary box, the Taiyang boy spoke in tones that bespoke horror and confusion in equal measure.

_‘What. The. Fuck?’_

_‘Language, Mr. Xiao Long.’_

_‘No, I second that,’_ the girl spoke a moment later. _‘What the fuck did she just hit him with?’_

 _‘That, Miss Branwen, is dendrocnide moroides. Better known to anyone who has done jungle warfare training in Northern Menagerie as ‘gympie, stinging brush, mulberry-leaved stinger, gympie gympie, gympie stinger’, or my personal favourite “suicide plant”.’_ Colonel Fang sounded completely unperturbed.

_‘Ah…’_

_‘On contact with living skin the hairs, which line the heart-shaped leaves and the tasty berries of this plant, will immediately detach and embed themselves deep into exposed flesh in order to release the potent neurotoxin contained in the small bulb at its tip. For two or three days after first contact the pain is absolutely unbearable and, under the right circumstances, can re-occur at the same strike site for up to two years. There is no known treatment. Aura, generally only protecting against anticipated attacks, is powerless to prevent it.’_

Hickory’s agonised screaming continued to echo through the arena.

 _‘Why would you put that in the rotation?’_ Taiyang sounded angry, and slightly afraid.

_‘A hunter must be prepared for anything.’_

_‘But…’_

_‘Anything.’_

There was a pause. The younger woman’s voice suddenly piped up.

_‘I like it.’_

Taiyang sighed as the screams continued to stun the crowds into silence. _‘I’m sure you do, Raven. I’m sure you do.’_

Leo’s eyes travelled to Ozpin. To his complete lack of surprise, Oz was beaming in approval. ‘Oz…I think we need to have a serious chat with Esma about the appropriateness of her…’

‘Come now, Leo, we both know that many of these students think that our combat curriculum is the only reason to attend a huntsman academy.’ Oz propped a leg up on his other knee and grinned maniacally. ‘Miss Kyle has just demonstrated the benefits of studying an elective in botany.’

\--------------------------

Merlot chased his fleeing opponent with a burst of tracers that smashed through the cinder blocks and corrugated iron. The air around Ironwood became filled with hot tungsten and chips of concrete, a dense chunk smashing into his hip and bowling him over.

In the stands, Glynda gripped Lapis’ hand.

With a grace that seemed incongruent with his bulk, Ironwood twisted in midair, landing on his right shoulder and rolling across to his left hip to absorb the impact. He kept moving deeper into the urban sprawl, out of line of sight of both the crowd and his opponent.

Glynda let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

‘Glynda,’ Lapis said urgently. ‘Glynda, Glynda, Glyn…’

Glynda let go of the fingers she hadn’t realised she’d been crushing.

‘Y’know, I was just kidding with some of the stuff I was saying about you and him,’ her friend said, wincing a little as she shook her fingers. ‘Well, mostly kidding. But I’m starting to think I was pretty close to the mark.’

‘He’s just a friend.’ Glynda cursed herself for the too-rapid response.

‘Oh? Is that the reason you’ve been gasping every time a burst flies past his head?’

She didn’t answer. She’d finally found James again. And Merlot was closing fast.

\-------------------------

Much was made of the vaunted Atlas military, just as much had been made of the Grand Army of Mantle before it. Merlot had never been convinced of the merits everyone seemed to blather about. Mantle had lost the Great War, and Atlas seemed to have a fairly steady losing streak in the Vytal Festival.

Case in point, the guy he was chasing down right now. Sure, bringing down the amusement park around his ears had been an interesting opening move. Enough to throw him off balance at first, but Ironwood had done nothing to exploit his opening. All he’d done was flee from the park into the crumbling urban ruin. It gave him more places to hide, but Merlot had time on his side. More than enough to root out one man.

Still…

‘You really gonna hide in here forever?’ He shouted. ‘You’re not even gonna try to fight?’

‘You have me a little bit outgunned.’ Ironwood’s voice called back.

‘That’s not really my fault, is it? You probably should have brought a bigger gun.’

‘And you really should have chosen a different gun!’ The man’s voice echoed from further inside the arena.

‘Oh really?’ Merlot took a few more steps forward but didn’t shoot. ‘Seems to have you on the run.’

‘Well, obviously.’

Merlot swung to the right and fired a burst into the building the voice had come from. There was a shower of sparks as some of his explosive tipped rounds struck against rebar, but no shouts of pain.

‘See, the Mark Seventy packs a hell of a punch…’

‘Yep, I know,’ Merlot fired off another burst. ‘I’ve been using it for two years.’

‘Then you should know its primary purpose is for point target destruction of soft-skinned vehicles, bunkers and armoured Grimm.’

Merlot was starting to move beyond annoyed and into flat out irritated. ‘Yep, knew that too.’

‘So, it’s really not favoured as an anti-infantry weapon. A lighter calibre will do the same job with better accuracy. Plus, you can carry more ammunition.’

‘I’ve still got plenty of bullets for you, pretty boy! Get out here and fight me!’

There was silence. The large Vacuan stared at the windows, at the doors. At the thousand and one places from which the Atlas boy could snipe at him with that puny revolver of his. He had to be somewhere up there. Somewhere in the shadows.

He tightened his grip on the weapon his hands and pushed forward. He didn’t see the trap until he was already in it.

The environments that the techs of Atlas had designed weren’t just facades. There was salt in the water of the artificial beaches. There were rabbit warrens in the forests. And there were high tension power lines in the cities.

Like the fallen one he’d just stepped over.

Merlot never saw Ironwood fire two rounds into the fuse box above his head. But he did feel the effect the live wire as twenty grams of military grade electricity Dust coursed through it.

Aura flaring, Merlot grunted, more from shock than from pain, but the power of the jolt was enough to drive him to his knees. Another three shots barked from his right. Merlot felt the first, an ice round, lock his knee in place. The second hit, likely a snatched shot, skimmed over the top of his gun without detonating.

The third hit the receiver square on. Merlot couldn’t hold back a string of curses as a chunk of rock expanded outwards from the impact, gumming up the bolt group and the feed mechanism.

On instinct he began to smash away the rock and rack working parts rearwards to clear away the debris.

A cracking sound above him made him realise his mistake.

\------------------------------

Leo couldn’t suppress a wince as a two metre tall piece of concrete dropped onto the Vacuan student. ‘Oz…’

‘I think that building was coming down anyway,’ Oz said. He hoped the uncertainty in his voice didn’t show.

‘Oz, he’s dropping buildings on his opponent!’

 _‘See that? That’s the way I want you to fight from now on!’_ A triumphal voice boomed across the speakers loud enough to make the audience clutch at their ears in sudden agony. _‘Everyone has a battle plan till they get hit by a wall! Finish him off, James! Finish him…!’_

There was the sound of scuffling, a few muttered curses and then a pained squeak. A moment later Raven’s voice returned, sounding not a little flustered and more than a little unnerved.

_‘My apologies, we lost control of the microphone for a moment. Ah, where were we? Right, another unconventional move from Team JAGD, with James Ironwood using a mixture of power lines and falling masonry to pin down Merlot Hobbes. With his opponent trapped, Ironwood is…running away?’_

_‘Stop running you idiot! Drop another building on him!’_

‘Where _is_ he going?’ Leo wondered. ‘He could finish off his opponent right now.’

Ozpin felt his smile return as he saw James fleeing the urban ruins. ‘I don’t know for certain, but he might be taking radical steps to victory.’

‘Oz…’ Leo sighed heavily. ‘You’ve been making a nuisance of yourself, haven’t you?’

\---------------------------------------

Gloria wrapped her bloodied gloves around the hilt of her sword. After an entire round of dodging belts of grenades, her trick with the gympie had finally allowed her to close the distance.

Turned out Hickory Hobbes was more than adept at close range fighting as well.

Gloria admired the man’s will if nothing else. She had once brushed her pinkie against a gympie leaf during a field trip to Southern Mistral. The resulting pain had left her whimpering for hours whilst Captain Currie had done his best to rip out the fine hairs of the plant with adhesive tape. She could still feel it flare up every time she had a cold shower.

Hickory had taken a full two leaves’ worth of gympie hairs in his face and neck. It should have completely incapacitated him. And yet he’d refused to surrender, clawed his way back to his feet and kept swinging with his axe. Either his skin was thicker than most or he had the will of a demon.

He was still clearly in immense agony, but she was half-concussed form the detonations of his grenades. It left them on strangely even footing in terms of speed.

Hickory was still stronger.

The power of every swing was enough that she would never have attempted to block or parry in normal circumstances. However, with her ears ringing and the ground dense with thick vines, it seemed unwise to try her usual acrobatics in order to dodge.

She had chosen to trade blows. But for every chunk of his aura she carved away, she lost another piece to glancing hit or a badly-countered parry. If she did block, her strength sapped further.

With a sickened jolt, Gloria realised she was going to lose. Not to trickery and guile like the other night. Not to a ring out. Not to a technicality.

She was going to be flattened.

The fear of such a loss spurred something in her. Her shoulders ached and her legs screamed, but she doubled the strength behind her next attacks, cutting high and low around his guard as she sought to bring him down.

It wasn’t going to be enough. He had aura to spare, and hers was almost done. She was inflicting more damage, but he could the tank the hits and keep on going…

She was done…the whole team was done…

The haze of shame and despair slowed her next attack, opening up a hole in her guard. Hickory didn’t need any other invitation. The haft of his axe struck her in the ribs. Forced backwards by the impact, she tripped over a tangle of vines and fell backwards into the mud.

Dazed, she could only stare as Hickory shuffled toward her, the young man wincing with fresh agony as each footstep agitated the stingers buried in his face. Gloria couldn’t bear to watch as he raised his axe. She turned her head, closed her eyes and waited for the end.

The meaty impact of metal on flesh was as sickening as she expected. Yet she felt no pain. In fact, there had been a second sound. Like another body striking the mud.

Gloria cracked an eyelid. Lying next to her, an unconscious Hickory Hobbes looked blissfully relieved to be out of his misery. Turning her head back to the sky, Gloria found Ironwood’s hand waiting for her.

‘I’m sorry.’

She took the hand, more on reflex than by will, and let him pull her upwards.

‘I’m sorry,’ James repeated.

‘For what?’

‘Being an ass in general?’ He offered. He looked almost sheepish. ‘Being a bad leader in particular.’

‘Kinda doesn’t feel as important as it did half an hour ago.’ Gloria gingerly patted a bruise on her temple. ‘Thanks for the save.’

‘Well, couldn’t leave my partner to fight alone, could I?’ James’ smile was hesitant, but it was the first she could remember him offering in…well, quite some time.

‘I, uh…yeah.’ Something made her reach out and rest a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry I said that back there. About your old team, I shouldn’t have implied that…’

 _‘Oh dear, it looks like Merlot Hobbes has finally gotten free.’_ A woman’s voice cut her off. _‘It would certainly be a shame if that cut off any heart-to-heart chats, but if there’s any chance we could get this match finished before lunchtime…’_

James sighed, wiping away the paste of dirt and sweat that plastered his brow. ‘Those two are the worst commentators I’ve ever heard.’

_‘The directional mikes are still focused on you, buddy.’_

‘I know.’

Gloria retrieved her sword. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

‘How’s your aura?’

‘Two-fifths of sod all. You?’

‘A bit more, but not by much.’ Blue eyes narrowed as they surveyed the battlefield. ‘He’s got to be running low on ammo, but I’m down to just hollow points. We need cover. We need…’

His eyes stopped as they looked at something over Gloria’s shoulder. A faint smile curved his lips. ‘…the high ground.’

\-----------------------------

Glynda could feel the mood of the crowd turning. The stands had slowly filled until now she had to crane her neck to see over the people below her. As the crowd grew denser and the fight played out, the whispers grew to a buzz, the buzz turned to a roar, and now it seemed everywhere was filled with excited chattering, speculation and hastily placed bets on the outcome.

For her own part, Glynda could scarcely take her eyes off the fighting. Both of the Atlas students had hung on by their fingertips for the duration of the fight. Outgunned and seemingly outmatched, a combination of dirty tricks and narrow scrapes had allowed them to survive the opening salvos. Those moves had been acts of desperation, unlikely to do any more than delay their seemingly unstoppable opponents.

That had changed when Ironwood’s left knee had collided with Hickory’s face. The crowd had been left staring in bafflement as the bigger man plummeted from just under a quarter of his aura to nothing in a single hit.

They hadn’t started cheering for JAGD straight away, even a Vytal crowd wasn’t that fickle. But they certainly had started making their approval known when Gloria sheathed her sword and stripped Hickory of his grenade launcher and ammo pack.

Rather than work independent of each other, the two were now perfectly in synch, wordless communication rapidly exchanged in a flurry of hand signals. Cohesion. Purpose. Intent to win rather than the mindless aggression of earlier.

She didn’t know why that had her bouncing in her seat and resisting the urge to cheer. It was baffling. Baffling that she had the urge or baffling that she was resisting? She wasn’t quite sure.

\---------------------------------

Merlot didn’t enjoy having to climb out of the rubble. He didn’t enjoy finding his brother had just been knocked out of the fight. And he absolutely hated being on the receiving end of brother’s grenade launcher.

The Atlas students, good little soldiers that they were, had taken a position on the high ground. They intended to rain high explosives on him, force him to advance under suppression and then finish him on the slopes.

Good tactic, he’d give them that. A nice, conservative play to finish the round. He felt vaguely insulted that they would think him that easy.

The grenade he took from the small of his back wasn’t one he’d intended to bring out until the finals round. Gravity dust wasn’t as rare in Vacuo as it was in the other kingdoms, but the process to refine it was equally as expensive. Shifting someone of Merlot’s height and weight took a little bit extra than usual. The thought of wasting almost ten thousand lien’s worth of dust in the one go was repugnant.

Not as repugnant as losing.

Merlot tossed the grenade at his feet and jumped.

Two hundred kilograms of man and gun soared skyward. He saw Ironwood and Gloria, secure behind their stolen grenade launcher, glance up at him with shock. He heard the gasping of the crowd, the unbelieving profanity coming from the commentators. He ignored it all and started shooting as he landed.

In the last hundred rounds of his ammunition, Merlot upped the ratio of high-explosive rounds from one in every ten to one in every three. The difference in impact was always remarkable.

The first burst drove both of them away from the grenade launcher, neutralising their heaviest firepower. The next sent Gloria scurrying for cover in a hail of rock chips.

Ironwood went for his gun. Merlot responded by hosing him with bullets. One struck the cylinder with a flash of sparks. The high explosive round detonated the remaining rounds inside the weapon, the barrel shooting off and the grip tumbling from Ironwood’s hands as he gripped his wrist in agony.

The next burst would have finished the Atlas boy off if his teammate hadn’t leapt between them. That damned blue sword spun like a whirlwind, fending off most of his shots. With an angry grunt, he shifted his aim.

Two rounds struck Gloria straight in the chest. The impact and detonations staggered her, coating her face and armour with carbon scoring. With a final, defiant scream, she swung in an upwards arc that Merlot lacked the energy to dodge. He flinched, but he was too far out of her range for the hit to hand.

The feed mount for his gun fell to pieces a moment later, sliced into pieces by the tip of her blade.

He had less than ten rounds still attached. She gave him a smug grin and he saw red. The final burst bowled the swordswoman over, her aura flaring and cracking as she rolled and lay still.

Merlot was left with the world’s most expensive club.

Ironwood was on him a moment later.

\--------------------------

Glynda knew there was a point past talent, a point past skill, where all a fighter had was themself. Where strategy was irrelevant and technique would only get in the way. She knew it was there, intellectually, but she’d never felt it for herself. No foe had ever been able to challenge her enough to drive her to it.

James Ironwood and Merlot Hobbes had hit that point and pushed right on past it.

Their aura was roughly at the same level. James’s pistol was in pieces. Merlot’s machine gun was empty. If it had a melee mode, the Vacuan boy hadn’t bothered to activate it. Instead he was swinging the empty weapon at James like he hoped to crush him with the weight of it.

James had responded by smashing him in the face with a rock, then hammering at his elbows until Merlot was forced to drop the weapon just to hold him off. Now they staggered back and forth on the plateau, grappling on their feet as each struggled to gain the advantage.

James drove a knee into Merlot’s stomach, his opponent responded by headbutting him in the nose. Merlot attempted to drive his leg into James’ groin, James stopped him with twist of his lower body and then laid into his ribs and kidneys with a series of punishing body blows. Merlot gouged at James’ eyes. James sunk his teeth into the man’s hand.

It was barbaric. And none of it against the rules. Huntsman bouts barred no holds, restricted no sucker punches. There were rules, yes, but more than one student had died in the ring of the old colosseum on Vytal before the safety measures had been implemented.

The crowd was going crazy for it. The roaring was enough to drown out whatever pithy comments Tai and Raven were shooting out, and Glynda no longer cared that she was screaming with them. Aura was plummeting quickly, but more than that, neither man had the energy to stand steady on their feet. One good hit could decide the outcome.

Both realised that at the same time, Merlot putting on a sudden burst of speed to duck under a wild haymaker and grip James around the torso. His own weight dragged them down to the ground, Merlot quickly moving to take the mount and cocked back his hands to begin ground pounding his dazed opponent.

James took the first hit, and the second. Then he recovered himself sufficiently to wriggle backwards and attempt to hip-escape the domination. Merlot gave chase, but James slammed his right foot into the man’s chest.

The foot was caught.

James barely had time to yelp in surprise before Merlot began to force the leg upwards and backwards, far past the limits of human flexibility. There was a gasp from the crowd as the knee hit its natural extension and was forced past it. The leg twisted and bent backwards.

Glynda slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry as she waited to hear the sound of bone snapping.

Only it didn’t. Rather than the crack of splintered bone accompanied by James’ screams, there was only his continued grunting as he wrestled to get free.

The crowd’s confusion was mirrored on Merlot’s face.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ His grip slackened for a moment. It was the only opening James needed. He slipped out like an eel, left leg snaking out to smack Merlot’s own knee on the side.

The taller boy hit the deck, momentarily stunned by the setback. James didn’t give him time to recover. Merlot shot out an arm to prop himself up, but James kicked it away with his left foot. He then slammed his right foot into Merlot’s head.

The aura buzzer sounded in synch with a woman’s voice suddenly roaring out over the speakers loud enough to drown the crowd.

_‘James Ironwood! Stand down!’_

The crowd was still roaring. The viciousness of the victory. The barely restrained bloodlust from both of them…it was infecting the crowd like a virus. Like the gladiatorial fights of the ancient Valerian Empire, they had only had their appetites whetted by the spectacle.

They almost seemed disappointed when Ironwood relaxed from his stance, the fury fading from his face as he took in his defeated opponent. His head traveled upwards to look at the crowd, his eyes tracing around the stadium as if looking for something.

Glynda met his eyes and was sure, surer than anything, that he’d been looking for her. He grinned at her. She grinned back.

The moment was broken not by noise, but by lack of it. A slow fading of the crowd’s ardour as the dust began to clear. That was when the muttering started.

_‘What the hell is up with his leg?’_

_‘Raven!’_

Taiyang might have meant to cut his partner off, but it was too late. The sharp-eyed among the crowd had already seen it. The rest followed suit as the cameras began to zoom in on James.

From the shredded leg of his fatigues the dull shine of steel could be seen. The knee, and the rest of Ironwood’s right leg, was metal.

The crowd stared on in sudden silence.

James’ slumped shoulders and hung head were not the pose of a victor. For a moment he looked more beaten than the man lying on the ground.

Gloria Kyle limped back up the slope from where she’d fallen, fingers grasping his hand for the whole crowd to see. She thrust it up in the air, wiping the blood out of her eyes as she glared up at them.

‘Well?!’ She shouted. ‘Aren’t you going to cheer?’

The crowd remained motionless.

‘Cyborg freak,’ someone muttered off to Glynda’s left.

‘That’s got to be an illegal advantage, right?’ The girl’s partner agreed.

A slow clap silenced the buzzing. All eyes swivelled to where Professor Ozpin had stood from his seat and was pounding his hands together with a broad smile on his face. The shaggy haired man next to the professor was likewise clapping, though his face indicated some measure of reluctance.

Glynda’s senses returned. She slammed her hands together, joining in the slow swell of applause that followed the headmaster’s example. It was still mortifyingly quiet for the size of the crowd.

Shame welled in Glynda’s stomach. Shame at her fellow students, yes. Shame at the spectators. Shame at herself for not being the first on her feet, cheering. The deepest shame for how she had looked at him. With his leg exposed and his eyes meeting her…and the shock and disbelief he must have seen on her face.

The two Atlas students limped out of the arena, an arm around each other’s shoulders to balance their weight. Where they had entered staring daggers at each other, now Gloria glowered at the crowd as if she’d gladly fight all of them once she’d had a drink and a snack.

\----------------------

‘Well, that could have gone better,’ Leo said. He felt slightly nauseous. The shock of the fight’s ending had mixed badly with the caffeine in his gut. ‘I didn’t realise Atlas could make such advanced prosthetics. Almost unnatural how lifelike that thing was.’

‘That ‘thing’, Leo?’ Ozpin’s voice was flat. Leo had known him long enough to recognise the danger in that tone. ‘Do you mean the leg that allowed that boy to stand on his own two feet?’

‘Yeah, the leg that he just bashed into the skulls of two Vacuan students.’ Leo shuddered. ‘Why didn’t Esma tell anyone that he had it?’

‘Are you surprised that she would respect her student’s dignity and privacy?’

‘Oz, you gotta see how this looks, right? These matches are meant to be spreading positivity and unity, not whatever that was.’

‘Well, those two,’ Oz viciously jabbed his finger in the direction of the withdrawing students, ‘entered this arena hating each other’s guts and leave it now as comrades.’

‘Two comrades. Wonderful.’

‘I prefer two souls that are honest over a thousand that aren’t, Leo. Every single time.’ Ozpin seized his cane and stood. ‘Enjoy the coffee, old friend.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To make a nuisance of myself!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst I appreciate theories that have Ironwood acquiring his cybernetics after a single incident, I find it more poignant if they were gradual additions over his life of service. Small sacrifices that he kept making repeatedly, the hammer beating the iron into the shape it took.
> 
> Showing just how much the best laid plans can go astray, I practically re-wrote this chapter from scratch after two drafts. Both were written from Ironwood's perspective and were much more technical about his strategy and weaponry. And since technical rambling just isn't fun to read, I gutted the drafts and focused much more on outside perspectives (hopefully a good call). Additionally, I didn't intend for him to be revealed as a cyborg until the first singles round, but it just felt more natural for the fight to end with a fresh conflict rather than the 'feel good' it was initially.


	7. The Laws of Pallikaras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victory re-unites Team JAGD, but reveals Ironwood's cybernetics to the world. Seeking to understand the boy from Atlas, Ozpin searches for answers about the fate of his old team. Answers that James is not prepared to give. Such is not the Atlesian Way.
> 
> Tai and Raven finalise their plans to rain chaos on the Vytal Dance, but will an unexpected obstacle stand between them and infamy?

_‘Cyborg freak.’_

_‘Cheater.’_

_‘Wonder how many more Atlas students have got that kind of hardware?’_

_‘More a machine than a man.’_

It was the Atlas way to keep a grip on one’s emotions. To share them only with trusted friends and devoted comrades. To never show fear or anger in front of those who would only use it against you. The writings of Atlas’ founder were a shield. The whispers chasing James and Gloria through the corridors of Amity were almost enough to break through that shield.

James refused to give any of them the satisfaction.

The medical orderlies had given them the all clear as they passed out of the stadium. Other than a broken aura for Gloria and some over-worked muscles for himself, they had escaped relatively unscathed.

Their opponents had needed to be stretchered off.

By all accounts, it should have been an incredible victory. Outgunned and apparently outmatched, the two of them had flipped the tables on the Vacuan students with creativity, aggression and sheer will to win. But James didn’t feel like a victor. He didn’t feel anything except shame.

They staggered back into the locker rooms, Gloria gently lowering him so that he could sit and lean against the lockers.

‘Thanks,’ he murmured.

‘Anytime, James,’ she dropped down next to him. On his right-hand side. ‘I’ve got your back, brother.’

Silence reigned between them again. There were many more words that could have been spoken. James could have offered more apologies. So could Gloria. But what would it matter compared to what they’d just endured together?

‘James, I…’ Gloria’s eyes dropped to his exposed leg. ‘Hells, I knew there was some damage but I never thought…you never said anything. We all thought it was just tissue damage, or that you’d had some kind of knee replacement?’

‘Not entirely incorrect.’

She snorted out a giggle, then looked horrified that she’d done so. But he was grinning too. It felt good to laugh with a teammate again. To have someone that _felt_ like a teammate again.

Ozpin’s radical path to victory had not involved bringing down an amusement park, nor dropping a building on his opponent. It had been to take all his anger at Gloria, all the resentment whether justified or unjustified, and jettison it.

_You cannot fight two enemies at once, James. And make no mistake, she is either your ally or your enemy. This rift between you must be mended. You can either wait for her to make the first move, or you can choke your pride and act like a leader! Deeds, James, not words. The crowd and the Grimm share this thing in common: They do not care **who** is responsible for a breakdown in teamwork._

‘That was a good trick with the gympie,’ James said instead. ‘Never seen you fight dirty like that before.’

Gloria offered him a weary grin. ‘Never had a reason to before. The sword always used to be enough.’

James chuckled, glad enough for a little levity. ‘Maybe you should just take a stack of the leaves into the next round?’

Gloria’s smile froze. ‘Yeah…about that…’

The door crashed open.

 _‘That was incredible!’_ Aqua Reev screeched as she flew at them. ‘One second you were getting your asses kicked, and then _BAM!_ James started dropping buildings on people, then you started slapping people with plant neuro-toxins! Then that guy tried to break your leg and you were all ‘oh you mean _this_ leg?’ Brilliant! You were brilliant!’

James and Gloria both blinked as she started kissing their foreheads, arms thrown around them as the short girl spat out more words in ten seconds than she sometimes would in an hour.

‘Dandy!’ Aqua shouted. ‘Stop sulking and get in here!’

The flaxen haired boy was standing in the doorway, his eyes low as he moved inside. There was an unfamiliar sullenness to him, a cloud of resentment as he raised his head to look at them.

‘Hey guys.’

Well, in for one lien, in for all of it.

‘Dandy,’ James tried to stand. ‘I’m sorry I…’

‘No,’ Dandelion cut him off. ‘Don’t. Don’t stand. Don’t apologise, just…just leave it. I was…I threw away my chance to stand out there today.’

He tried for a smile. It was weak, but it was better than the harsh words thrown around before. ‘I’ll get over myself eventually. But for now, that’s two on the board for Team JAGD.’

James smiled back. He held out his hand, Dandelion didn’t hesitate to shake it. ‘Team JAGD.’

‘Team JAGD!’ Gloria and Aqua pounded fists, looking for all the world like they’d always been best friends. Like the last two days had just been one big misunderstanding instead of his team falling apart underneath him.

His team… _Feed your troops on victory,_ Colonel Fang had advised. Team JAGD had finally gotten a clean one. Or would have…

The catch in his throat brought all eyes back to him.

‘I’m fine,’ he choked out the words. The momentary buzz of their reunion was already fading, the aches and pains of the fighting setting in with a vengeance as his aura struggled to recuperate from the strain.

His stump burned like it was on fire.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘James…’ The worry on Gloria’s face almost stung worse than the contempt of an hour earlier. He was the team leader. He had to set the example, he had to keep his emotions under control, he…he…

His face sunk into his hands, tears spilling from his eyes as the battle stress intermingled with the humiliation of his outing and the sneering of the crowd. The way they’d looked at him. The way _Glynda_ had looked at him. Like he was less than human.

Too late to take it back now.

‘They still really don’t like us, huh?’ The smile was forced, but it was better than sobbing. ‘What’s the betting they’ll find something to hate about Gloria when she wins the next round?’

‘I won’t be.’

Their heads swivelled back to the blue haired girl. Gloria had taken out her scroll, staring quietly the highlight reels that were already spreading over the CCT. She raised her head with a grimace. ‘I’m not going on to the next round.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Aqua said. ‘I thought we’d figured things out. That we’re…we’re all the same side?’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to do it, it’s that I can’t do it,’ Gloria said despondently. ‘Both the teams that we’ve gone up against have had a plan for dealing with me. I’ve lost my aura twice now.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything.’ James put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. ‘We still won, and you’re still our best fighter.’

‘I…’

‘Excuse me,’ a mild voice interrupted. ‘Might I interrupt for a moment?’

Team JAGD straightened up, James and Gloria both hobbling to their feet when they saw who was standing before them.

‘Professor Ozpin, sir!’ Aqua’s hand travelled halfway up in a crisp salute before James caught it.

‘As you were,’ Ozpin beamed at them. ‘I only stopped by to offer my sincerest congratulations on your victory. Well done, Miss Kyle! And you too, James! A little slow at the start, but at the end? Excellent teamwork, truly excellent.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Gloria still stood at attention, fists clenched by her sides despite her weariness. Her eyes strayed past Ozpin for a brief moment. ‘Is Colonel Fang…’

The headmaster hesitated. ‘She is…a little pre-occupied. Apparently one of our commentators was ambushed whilst she was grabbing a snack.’

\--------------------------------

_By the time Raven realised the trap had been set, it was already too late to escape. Three figures blocked the hallway behind her, the door to her right was sealed tight. High heels clicked on the ground, signalling the approach of her fate._

_‘Hello, Raven.’ Glynda Goodwitch stepped into view at the end of the dark corridor. ‘I think it’s time you and I had a serious chat about respecting personal privacy. That, and the very real dangers posed by cyber-bullying.’_

_‘Glynda, I…’_

_‘Shhhhh,’ the blonde girl raised her riding crop. ‘This will be a one-way conversation.’_

\---------------------------------

‘But I am sure Esma will find a suitable time to address you all. You have done your academy and your kingdom proud today, make no mistake.’

James already knew why Colonel Fang hadn’t come. She always found a different excuse not to speak to Team JAGD, but there was only one real reason. It stood about six foot five inches, had blue eyes, started with James and ended with Ironwood. The humiliation had long lost its bitter edge for him, but there was something new to the shame of costing Gloria the headmistress’ approval.

‘I did have another reason for coming by,’ Ozpin’s smile faded from his lips, a hint of something darker in his eyes. ‘To offer you an unconditional apology for the appalling behaviour of my students. For them to say such things about your prosthetic is not just impolite, it is inexcusable.’

‘It’s alright, sir. I’m happy to just let it go. Prosthetics like mine aren’t common, so I get that they are…’

 _No!’_ The word was practically hissed out, cutting off his well-rehearsed monologue mid-flow ‘Letting this go is not an acceptable course of action to me.’

James had seen the man’s temper once already, but for the rest of Team JAGD it was like they’d witnessed the sundering of the moon. It was an equally terrifying sight. He dropped his head, unable to look at it directly.

‘I have lived a longer life than you might think, James. And in that life, time and again, I have witnessed people willingly prefer ignorance when the means to educate themselves is right in front of them.’ Ozpin rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘One cannot always blame a civilian, insulated in their own little world, for the prejudices that have never been challenged. But the students in those stands, huntsmen and huntresses in training…they _should know better!_ ’

The catch in his voice made James look up. For a moment, he looked not into the eyes of a kindly professor. He was in the presence of something noble…ancient, even. Almost a king.

‘How did this happen, James?’ His voice was soft again, calm and royal. ‘Esma told me of all the others, but she wouldn’t say what happened to your old team. She said it was your story to tell.’

James lowered his head. ‘That’s not true. She has as much right to tell it as I do.’

‘I would rather hear it from you, if you are willing.’

Gloria stood. ‘Let’s give them some privacy.’

‘You don’t have to…’

‘Yeah we do,’ Dandelion gave him a nod. ‘We’ll wait for you back at the dorm. How about a team lunch to celebrate? My treat?’

‘Nah,’ Gloria shook her head. ‘Mine. I know just the spot, too.’

She shooed them out, giving him a cracked smile before she vanished beyond. All his anger toward her felt like it belonged to a different man. Maybe not a man at all, just a foolish boy with an easily bruised ego.

‘The record says you were partnered with three other boys,’ Ozpin’s voice dragged him back to the present. ‘Vance Garnet, Leam Lace and Terry Umber. Together you were…’

‘Team Valiant.’ It had taken some time before James could say the word without flinching. ‘I think Colonel Fang was really stretching VLIT to get that one.’

‘It’s one of the few whimsical pleasures we teachers get.’ Ozpin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. They were fixed on his, quiet and thoughtful. ‘What were they like?’

‘The best,’ James said without hesitation. He grinned on reflex, the memories of rowdy evenings spent terrorising the hallways of Atlas Academy swimming before his eyes. ‘Vance and I went to the same combat prep school. He wasn’t just good at fighting. He was a polymath, an inventor…he was brilliant. Leam was too. There wasn’t a weapon that he couldn’t use. I can barely describe his semblance…it was like he could see the trajectories for whatever he was shooting or throwing. He could bounce a knife off a wall or ricochet a paper bullet around a corner. Nothing got past him.’

‘And Terry?’

The smile vanished. ‘He was…he…’

‘Ah,’ Ozpin nodded slowly. ‘I think I understand.’

‘He was my best friend. I don’t think…I know I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him.’

‘How did he die?’

Ironwood shrugged, the simple gesture carrying far more meaning than he’d likely meant to give away. ‘Grimm swarm. We did our second year field grading just south of Argus. Eleanor Andromeda was our Huntress Supervisor. Snowstorm hit our camp and we dug in to stay warm. Got hit just before dawn. Two hours later my team was dead, and my leg was gone.’

‘And that’s it?’

‘What do you want me to say, sir?’ The ache in his heart had begun to fade under the crushing weight of his own limbs. His aura still hadn’t recovered from its beating, his body was desperate for calories and he just wanted to stop _stinking_.

‘Say whatever you feel, James. I swear that no one will hear it from me.’

‘That’s not the Atlesian way, sir.’

‘James…’

‘The writings of Pallikaras are clear on the matter, Professor,’ James stood, fighting off exhaustion to rise up to full height and stare down on the man before him. ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do, sir. But it’s unnecessary. I will endure. With friends if I can. Alone if I must.’

‘You shouldn’t have to. I am familiar with Pallikaras. When he said that a soldier should share their deepest joys and sorrows with their trusted comrades, he meant it to be an outlet, not a block.’

‘Nevertheless.’ James’ set his jaw, his eyes narrowing. ‘Thank you for all your help, sir. It is appreciated.’

‘But I am not an Atlesian?’ Ozpin didn’t smile, but his eyes were soft. ‘Then why not your own commanding officer? Or did not Pallikaras state that the lowliest soldier might call upon the highest general for counsel and comfort?’

‘You know your history well, sir,’ James noted. ‘But I doubt Colonel Fang would care too much for my problems. She lost more than I did that day.’

Ozpin shifted, his brow raising behind his glasses and his grip tightening on his cane. ‘What do you mean?

‘Terry Umber was Colonel Fang’s nephew, sir. He died in her arms on the medevac flight.’

\---------------------------------

_‘James, I am so very sorry for what you went through. Please know that.’_

James knew it. And he was sure that Ozpin meant it. Everyone who said it tended to mean it.

It still hadn’t brought his friends back. Or his leg.

 _My leg_.

He had his victory. It had only cost him his privacy. Almost a year of concealing the full extent of his rehabilitation from everyone else in Atlas gone. By the afternoon hunters-in-training here and back home would know exactly what he’d lost.

But he had his victory.

It was the work of a moment to strip out of his tattered combat uniform, gagging at the stink of dried blood and spent Dust marinated with sweat. The steaming spray watched away the mud of the jungle and the slimy dust of powdered concrete. Grabbing the heavy-duty soap, he scraped the grit over his chest and shoulders, scrubbing away the grime of the fight with far more vigour than was necessary. By the time he’d finished his skin was red and raw.

Anything to distract him from the steady, beating ache where his metal met his flesh.

\----------------------------

The quality of Beacon’s common rooms vastly depended on whether or not the students in a particularly corridor had the cash to splash on well-stuffed leather armchairs, flatscreen televisions and Play Scroll Fives.

Of course, if you happened to have a good thief or scrounger in your corridor, one might enrich their own common room at the expense of Beacon’s wealthier students. It just so happened that Floor Two, Corridor Thirteen of the East Wing happened to boast Qrow and Raven Branwen amongst its members. That then meant that within nine months of their arrival at the school the denizens of Common Room Thirteen were the proud owners of a seventy-five-inch television, a surround sound system and a Collector’s Special Edition of _Masked Assassin: Grimm Die Twice_.

Sucked for the rich kids, worked great for Tai as he snuck his way through the bandit camp, poisoning food supplies and sabotaging weapons stores on his way to slice up the clan chief in his elaborate tent of red silk. He wasn’t this far ahead on his main profile, but he figured Raven wouldn’t mind him borrowing hers as long as he…

Raven dropping down next to him didn’t startle him. It definitely didn’t cause him to emit an unmanly squeak in anticipation of a brutal attack and/or seduction attempt. Instead, she stared blankly into space, hair frazzled and eyes slightly crossed as her aura pulsed weakly.

‘Oh, hey Raven, did you get the…?’ Tai trailed off as he examined his girlfriend closely. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Long story, don’t want to talk about it, don’t piss off Goodwitch.’ Raven nestled even deeper into the couch. ‘How are the battle plans?’

‘Well, I’m planning on sneaking through the shadows up ahead, then hook-lining it up to the central look-out platform…’

‘For the dance prank, genius,’ Raven groaned. ‘We have one day left to get this right.’

‘Ah, then you’ve come to the right place,’ Tai took a quick glance around. ‘Come here, let me allow you a private look at my genius.’

‘It won’t be a long look.’

‘Shh.’ Tai almost, but not quite, patted her on one of the more significant bruises. ‘Observe.’

He flicked something from his scroll onto the main screen of the television. ‘So, I started off with vodka in the punch bowl.’

‘Everyone does vodka in the punch bowl,’ she grumbled. Tai flicked her a warning glance.

‘Would you let me finish?’

Raven held up her hands. ‘Sorry, sorry. I didn’t realise that some tipsy flirting was going to make for the prank of the century.’

‘That’s because you think I’m going for just one prank,’ Tai said. Something in his tone must have given him away. Raven sat up, suddenly alert despite her Goodwitch-inflicted injuries.

‘Alright, on this one occasion I’m going to ask you to skip the foreplay. What’s the gig?’

Tai let his grin speak for itself. ‘See, no matter how much I thought about it, I just couldn’t come up with a single prank big enough to blow everyone’s minds. Not without literally blowing their minds in some way. And, whilst I’m sure you couldn’t care less about a few deaths amongst the student body…’

‘I couldn’t, I really couldn’t,’ Raven sighed.

‘…I know we’d both prefer not to go to prison.’

‘Agreed.’

‘So…’ Tai flicked his scroll. ‘I present to you, the Xiao-Long ultimate move. Death of a Thousand Cuts.’

On the screen, the layout of the dance hall changed. No longer were there just one or two blobs of red to display Tai’s dastardly designs. Now, the whole of the room and some parts of beyond were soaked in a deep crimson. Like a waterfall of blood.

‘See, I was thinking about what Professor Rizzo said the other day about setting a trap for intelligent Grimm.’ Tai rubbed the tips of his fingers together, his eyes filled with menace. ‘How you have to set up one trap to trigger the next one, forcing your prey even deeper into your design. And thus, our own traps shall be multi-layered. The sexually charged music that I’ll sneak into the playlist will draw people to the dance floor. Those who get tired on the dance floor will congregate around the refreshment area. Those who get a little hot and bothered by the action on the dance floor will withdraw to the balconies and gardens. The chaperones will all be looking at them. No one will ever think to check the balloon bouquets.’

Raven swallowed heavily. ‘And what will be in the balloon bouquets?’

‘These,’ Tai held up a tiny piece of paper.

‘An Atlas crest?’

‘Thousands of them,’ Tai confirmed. ‘And thousands of Mistral crests as well. All printed on adhesive paper, then detonated in strategic locations around the dance floor. All going well, we should have eighty to ninety percent coverage.’

He could already see the malice dancing behind Raven’s eyes.

‘Hundreds of students…’ she licked her lips. ‘All geared up for the dance...’

‘All covered in sticky confetti…’

‘Mistral will blame Atlas…’

‘Atlas will blame Mistral…’

‘Everyone else will blame both of them…’

‘It’ll be chaos.’ Tai concluded. ‘We may actually start our own re-creation of the great war.’

Raven tossed a leg over his, her smile showing enough teeth to make a shark weep in envy. ‘And no one will ever guess it was us. Tai…I think I lo-’

‘Hey guys!’

Despite knowing better, Tai was ninety percent certain that Summer Rose’s semblance was the ability to take any romantic situation he and Raven found themselves in and dump a large bucket of very cold water over it. That could also be explained by the scowling shadow lurking by her side.

‘Hey Summer.’ Tai hit the button on his scroll without pausing. The evidence of their plot disappeared instantly, Qrow’s eyes narrowing in response to the screen going blank. ‘Did you guys enjoy the matches?’

Summer dropped in-between them with a giggle. ‘We did! You guys were hilarious! Are you going to commentate on ours as well?’

‘Oz wants the professors to do the commentating on the afternoon matches.’ Tai gave a half-hearted shrug at her pout. ‘I think he wants Raven and I to work on our material.’

‘Yeah, great,’ Qrow shot him a vicious glare. ‘You _should_ work on your material. And nothing else.’

Raven and Tai both gave him a warning look. Summer either didn’t notice or pretended not to. Instead she whipped out her own scroll and leaned into Raven.

‘So, my dress finally arrived from home!’ She held up her picture expectantly until Raven made a half-hearted noise of approval. ‘Have you got yours yet?’

‘Ah, no,’ Raven shot Tai a pleading glance, only for him to shrug in return. ‘I…Tai and I weren’t planning on going.’

Tai didn’t have time to glare at her before Summer was looking at him with concern. Big silver eyes stared at him, Summer biting her lip as her brow creased.

‘Is that true, Tai?’

‘Ah…well, Raven and I aren’t really big on dances…’ Tai scratched his head. ‘We were thinking we’d have a quiet night instead. Maybe uh…go on a date?’

‘Somewhere expensive,’ Raven added. Tai winced, but nodded.

‘Yeah,’ he forced out from behind gritted teeth. ‘Five star dining and all that.’

‘But it’s the Vytal Dance,’ Summer said, grabbing his hand. ‘It only comes round once every two years! Glynda and the student council worked really hard on it.’

‘Uh, yeah well…just a little bit too late now,’ Tai ignored Raven’s querying glance. ‘Like she just said, Raven doesn’t even have a dress.’

‘Yes!’ Raven seized the opportunity with greedy hands. ‘A dress! Can’t go in just my combat outfit.’

‘So if you had a dress, you could go?’

‘Sure, why not?’

Summer beamed at them both. ‘Well, that’s easy then. You can wear one of my dresses.’

All eyes in the room travelled to Raven’s chest, then to Summer’s. Raven cleared her throat. ‘Sum…I don’t think that…’

‘Well, I’ll modify it first, obviously.’ Summer grabbed her partner’s hand and began pulling her toward the dorms. ‘Come on, we’ve got so little time left. Boys, you stay out till we’re done. Especially you, Tai. I want this to be a surprise…’

Raven was yanked off the couch by the smaller girl, unable to let out more than a small yelp before she was dragged into the darkness of the corridor.

‘This really isn’t her day,’ Tai mused.

‘Yeah, I can sympathise,’ Qrow said, in a tone that indicated everything but sympathy. ‘Hey, what was that you had on the screen before we came in?’

‘Nothing?’

‘Uh huh. And I just imagined the words ‘Tai and Raven’s Legendary Vytal Dance Prank Plan’ then?’

‘Yep.’

Qrow’s eyes were like slits. ‘You do know that Summer is really looking forward to this dance, right?’

Tai’s stomach flip-flopped, but he kept a straight face. ‘Yeah.’

‘And that it’d really hurt her if it went bad, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Right, Tai, I’ll level with you,’ Qrow rested a comforting hand on Tai’s shoulder that achieved the exact opposite effect. ‘If something happens at the dance tomorrow night that is caused by you and Raven, anything at all that upsets Summer, and bad things are going to happen. To you. Specifically. Just something to think on. Let Raven know as well.’

‘Qrow, I…’

‘Just think on it,’ Qrow tossed the words over his shoulder. ‘I follow through on my promises. Always have, always will.’

The trouble was, so did Raven. And Tai had already made some very strongly worded promises to her, and already received hefty compensation. Raven would still want her prank. Which now meant Tai was trapped in his least favourite position in the world: Between the Branwen siblings.

‘Shit.’

\----------------------------

Beacon’s weapon foundry was not a commonly used facility, especially in the later parts of the school year. Most students arrived with well-developed fighting styles and weapons already custom forged to suit them. For some, true, there were refinements to be made. Radical ones, sometimes. And the stipend Beacon provided for weapon modification practically guaranteed that nearly everyone would tinker.

Forging a completely new weapon, however? Rare. And rarer still to do it at the end of a semester, rather than the start. There was a reason why Beacon’s weapon master doubled as a professor of philosophy. There was very little else for him to do. Despite that, Doctor Amitavo Stone’s foundry was not only in top condition but likely unsurpassed in quality by any weapons smith save those in Atlas.

Ozpin was counting on just that. ‘Amitavo! I apologise for dragging you down here on a day like today.’

‘Think nothing of it.’ His friend rose to greet him, the man’s smoky black cat slipping off his shoulder and padding over to brush against Ozpin’s leg. ‘Sooty and I were thinking of coming down here anyway, just to brush away some of the cobwebs.’

Ozpin knelt to scratch the cat’s ears. ‘Well, I certainly appreciate it. Did you get the materials I asked for?’

‘I’ll have to cannibalise some of my older pieces for steel of that quality, but yes, there should be enough for all of it.’

The lights flickered on down the length of the hall, the heavy machinery whirring to live in a crisp series of clicks and whirrs. Oz savoured every moment of it. It reminded him of Ossell’s forge in the mountain hamlet south of the Silver River, the heat of the fire and the ring of the anvil broken only by pleasant interludes with Winifred as they swam together in the hot springs beneath the glacier. A simpler life, that one, and dearly remembered.

‘Do you approve the design?’ It would not do, after all, to count to heavily on some of those memories. Weapons technology had evolved since he last plied that trade, and much of what he remembered was at least two centuries out of date. An experienced hobbyist he might have been, but it cost nothing to show respect to a master.

‘In principle, yes.’ Amitavo flicked the specifications from his scroll onto the forge’s own projector. ‘Sturdy, reliable, and the balance should be perfect if built to spec. But it seems a little basic. No mecha-shift. No blade option. A little unimaginative, if I’m being honest.’

‘That’s perfectly fine. The new owner will have more than enough imagination to compensate.’

‘As you wish. I should warn you that I do not have quite the right machinery to manufacture some of the parts. I’ll need you to

‘That’s perfectly alright, Doctor. It will be quite a treat to swing a hammer again. How strange it is when it’s almost a treat to get my hands dirty.’

Doffing his jacket and waistcoat, Oz began to roll up his sleeves. The build of his frame was leaner and lighter than he’d prefer, but he had not been skimping on his sparring sessions with the rest of the faculty. His wiry arms were more accustomed to wielding a pen than a sword in this life, but they still had sufficient cords of muscle for the task at hand.

For the weapon he had in mind, a more personal touch suited him far better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spartan Atlas? Spartan Atlas.


	8. Ladies and Gentlemen of Mantle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JAGD meet to celebrate their victory and plan their strategy. But what price is Ironwood willing to pay for victory and glory? Not every battle is worth fighting, and not every old wound stays closed.
> 
> With every victory bringing her closer to facing him, in the ring and out of it, Glynda must begin to reckon with her feelings for the boy from Atlas.

‘It really is a beautiful city.’ Aqua stared out over the urban sprawl below them. ‘So different from home.’

James couldn’t help but agree to both statements. Where Atlas and Mantle relied on the cold for protection and Vacuo looked to its deserts, the Kingdom of Vale was, well, a _vale_. The mountains on either side protected them from the Grimm, but left them very little room to live. With the fertile plains next to the river required for agriculture and grazing, and the river a vital source of both trade and fishing, that meant the city had looked to the mountains around it for living room.

Perhaps Atlas had only borrowed the idea of a city in the clouds from here? Some of the taller buildings on the higher slopes might have given even the Schnee Manor a run for its money.

‘You’ve been here before, right?’ It was half a guess, but Aqua nodded.

‘Mom was the ambassador for two years when I was a kid. I started off at Watchtower Prep before she got re-assigned to Mistral.’

‘And you got to see Vacuo last Vytal,’ James couldn’t help but be impressed. Even for an Atlesian, Aqua was unusually well travelled.

‘Plus a two week visit to Menagerie when Pierre Belladonna first opened diplomatic channels,’ she confirmed. ‘That was pretty fun. Almost died from a snakebite, but it was still pretty fun. What about you?’

‘Just a couple of trips to Mistral, does that count?’

They shared a grin at the joke. With Mistral being the closest nation to Atlas, there was bound to be some cultural crossover. Mistral cuisine was practically a staple of the Atlas diet, whilst Mistral fashion had taken on an undeniably Atlesian edge since Atlas re-emerged onto the world stage. And what an entrance it had been…

‘It seems so disorganised compared to home,’ James noted. ‘Like they had half a plan of how to build the city, then just improvised the rest of it.’

‘You’ll find that wherever you go in the south.’ Aqua’s face grew tight with a distasteful frown. ‘They don’t think long term _or_ generationally. Hell, if something is going to take longer than ten years to build they seem to assume it’ll be a lost cause.’

James shared her disdain. In Atlas, and Mantle before it, a mother could pass her hammer to her son and a father a pen to his daughter and trust that the work would be carried on, built upon, refined and evolved until it was complete. It was the Atlesian way.

The air-taxi landed them about five minutes from the location of the café Gloria had told them to meet her. The crisp air closer to the mountains had both of them pulling their uniform jackets tighter. Aqua had traded her beret for a woollen beanie. Against regulation, but right now it didn’t even seem worth mentioning. After all, he couldn’t exactly judge after ditching his tie back in the room.

‘I feel like I should say thank you.’

James glanced at her, confused more by her own puzzled expression than by the words. ‘For what?’

‘That’s the thing, I’m not sure,’ Aqua confessed. ‘I guess I could say ‘thanks for winning’, but that seems pretty shallow.’

‘Maybe a little.’

‘I could also say ‘thanks for saving Gloria’, but she saved you as well so that’s already kind of evened out. Or ‘thanks for making up with her’, but you both had to work on that so it’s kind of awkward thanking just you.’

James wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed by her frankness. Mainly he settled on surprised. Not so much by the content of her words, but by the quantity of them.

‘Thank you for coming back,’ he said instead. ‘And for bringing Dandelion with you.’

Her cheeks flushed. ‘The moment that match started I was ashamed of myself. Dragged Dandelion out from the library, stuck us both on the first air taxi I could hail. I knew that we had to be there. Win or lose.’

‘I’m glad it was a win.’

‘Me too.’ Her heavy exhale said it all. ‘But I would have still come. I owed you that.’

‘Owed me for what?’ James cocked an eye at her. He couldn’t recall ever having done anything special for the shorter girl. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember even speaking to her before they were stuck together on JAGD.

Aqua opened then closed her mouth, head shaking as she looked away. ‘Never mind. It’s not…’

Both their scrolls buzzed at the same time. Aqua reached for hers first. ‘It’s probably Gloria wanting to know where we are. I swear, you don’t pay attention to her for five minutes and she…’

James coughed lightly. Aqua had the good grace to look embarrassed. ‘I mean…go Team JAGD?’

‘Go Team JAGD,’ James agreed.

Out of curiosity, he pulled out his own scroll to see Gloria’s message. It wasn’t Gloria, though. One of the fourth years from KING had posted a link in the group chat and tagged all of JAGD in it.

 _‘Chad Atlas Cyborg Curb-stomps Vacuo Peasants,’_ he read aloud.

‘Subtle title.’ She said.

‘Really rolls off the tongue.’ He agreed.

‘Oh, and look what he picked as the cover photo.’ They both winced at the image of his steel leg colliding with Merlot’s jaw. ‘These guys worked fast. The fight’s only been done for an hour and this thing is already going viral.’

‘Atlas needed a win,’ James mused. He didn’t have to like it to see it for what it was. JAGD’s victory was now the Academy’s victory, and thus the kingdom’s victory. ‘Do I want to look at the comments?’

‘There’s some nice ones,’ she offered half-heartedly. ‘See? _Well fought, truly a fine example of up and coming huntsmen giving it their all._ ’

‘Oh yes, and five likes underneath it.’ Reaching out, he flicked the screen to reveal the rest. ‘ _CHEATER_ now has two thousand. ‘Freak’ has five hundred and climbing. Let’s see…oh I like this one: _Why the f did we ever f*ing let f*ing Atlas into the tournament anyway if this is the kind of shit they pull? Mantle with a name change is still Mantle. Remember the Great War, hashtag Never forget._ Oh, and there’s more under the cut about how Atlas is sneaking cyborgs into the tournament to take over Vale. Ten thousand likes, too.’

‘On the bright side, _I wish he would step on me like that_ has about double that.’ Aqua blushed a little, even as a grin spread across her face.

‘So I’m either hated or objectified?’

The grin died. ‘Oh…I didn’t think of it like that…’

James was left to curse himself again. He’d managed five minutes of normal conversation with his teammate before driving the whole thing into the wall again. It was a bad joke, that was all. He shouldn’t have snapped at her like that.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tried not to fumble his apology too. ‘I don’t know why I did that.’

‘No, it’s fine, it really is,’ Aqua looked away, her shoulders hunched. ‘It was a stupid joke, I shouldn’t have made it.’

‘No, no it was just a joke.’ James lightly rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Terry and Leam used to make far worse. Hell, they used to rip the piss out of me all the time.’

‘I know.’ Her smile slowly re-appeared, the tension fading from her shoulders as she saw he wasn’t angry. ‘And don’t pretend like you didn’t give as much as you got. My dorm was right above yours, it was like living on top of a Beowolf nest.’

‘We weren’t that bad…’

‘Leam once cut a love heart into the back of Terry’s hair when he asked for a haircut.’

‘Oh yeah, that was a good one...’

‘Terry then wrote as many curse words in High Solitan as he could fit on the back of Leam’s head.’

‘In Terry’s defence, High Solitan is a very complex language…’

‘And then you all made up by fixing Colonel Fang’s desk to the roof of the mess hall.’

‘…yeah, that one may have gone a little too far.’

She was grinning openly now, her chest twitching from the effort of keeping her laughter inside. ‘I thought the Old Lady was going to keep you four on the drill square until you could do salutes-on-the-march in your sleep.’

‘Quite a few people would have been pretty happy if she did.’ Valiant hadn’t exactly been enemies with any of the other teams, but their reputation for pranking and brawling in equal measure had united quite a few teams in polite and not-so-polite disdain for the four boys. Nevermind that most of their pranking and brawling had been within the team itself. To some, their behaviour had been immature. Unprofessional. Not _Atlesian_ enough.

James had read the _Laws of Pallikaras_ from cover to cover during his initiation week. There was nothing in them that said you had to be a stuck-up goodie-goodie to be a good soldier.

‘I think you just confused people. They couldn’t understand how you could be at each other’s throats in the middle of the week and then climbing Mount Lycurgus together on the weekend. My sister thought you were idiots.’

‘And you?’

She glanced away, trying to hide a blush. ‘Well…I thought it was kind of cute. Yeah, you roused on each other, you were loud and kind of full of yourselves. But you were always helping each other, too. And you laughed at yourselves, not at other people. A lot of the ones who pointed their fingers at you were…’ She trailed off awkwardly, both of them knowing who she meant.

‘…were worse,’ Aqua finished gamely. ‘They were way worse. Just like now. They’re calling you names, but the only people they’re degrading is themselves. Let them squeal away.’

‘Huh,’ James cast his eyes to the left, his feet swivelling like he was back on the drill square. ‘You, uh, don’t normally talk like this.’

‘I didn’t think you’d want to hear what I had to say. I wasn’t even sure you liked me, let alone wanted to be on a team with me.’

That drew him back to her, his eyes wide as he stopped in his tracks. ‘What? No, why would you even…’

He trailed off as his mind suddenly reminded him of _exactly_ why she would think such a thing. What was she supposed to think when he hadn’t initiated a conversation with her for almost two months after the school year started? Aqua had come to a halt, hands fidgeting with the hem of her uniform jacket as she kept her eyes low.

‘Everyone else thought I was a snitch who betrayed my team and got them expelled,’ she mumbled. ‘Dandy and Gloria never said anything and you were pretty quiet about it…’

James felt his stomach contract violently as her meaning sank in. How long had she though…? He’d been so focused on his therapy, on avoiding the team until he was back to his best…

‘Your _team_?’ He couldn’t keep the venom from his tone. ‘They were bullies. They didn’t deserve to wear this uniform. You do.’

He’d embarrassed her again. Aqua was squirming on the spot, trying to look everywhere but at him.

‘It doesn’t excuse how long I let it go.’ She hung her head. ‘They made that poor kid’s life a living hell for almost a year. If they hadn’t done what they did I might never have…’

‘But you did. Maybe it took a while, but you made things right. You took action, just as an Atlesian should.’ She’d put him to shame on that front. ‘I’m hoping you can give me a chance to the same.’

‘James, you don’t need to…’

‘I’ve been letting this team down since day one, week one. And I think I started with you.’ This time James held her gaze, blue eyes locking onto hers as she bit her lip. ‘I’m going to do better, if you’ll let me try. This team would be lucky, damned lucky, to have someone with your courage and integrity.’

For a long moment there was silence, a few seconds of quiet understanding. Then Aqua smiled. Not the awkward or embarrassed grin of before, but clear and honest. Perhaps the first uncomplicated happiness that he’d ever seen from her.

‘Well, I’m proud to be the ‘A’ in Team JAGD, if you’re proud to have me.’ She grabbed his arm and began tugging him up the hill. ‘Now come on, I’m starving.’

-RoaG-

They found Gloria and Dandelion waiting for them outside a well-appointed restaurant from which the scent of roasted meat drifted like a fine perfume. Both were clad in their own variations of the Atlas uniform, the standard white shirt, grey vest and red tie accompanied by the red lanyard on the right breast that denoted them as Atlas Academy third years. Dandelion wore a golden pin of his namesake on the lapel, whilst Gloria had the red sash of a championship fighter underneath her belt.

That they’d waited for them almost brought a smile to James’ face. A smile that was quickly crushed when he saw their way was being blocked by a short man with iron grey hair and a large set of spectacles.

‘I said no,’ the man growled. ‘Go flash your cash somewhere else. I don’t want any Mantle warmongers in my place.’

‘But we’re not _from_ Mantle,’ Gloria said, her tone indicating she’d been making the same argument for quite some time. ‘We’re from Atlas.’

‘Atlas. Mantle. Same old kingdom with a brand new coat of paint.’

‘It’s really not,’ Dandelion sighed. The hangdog look on his face was proof that they’d been at it for quite some time. ‘Look, old timer, this is just…’

‘Dandelion!’ James called sharply. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Jimmy!’ Dandy smiled at him, the expression flickering back to a scowl as he glared at the old man. The old man glared right back. ‘This old guy won’t let us in! Just ‘cos we’re from Atlas he…’

‘This ‘old guy’ deserves to be treated with as much respect as anyone else.’ James tried not to make it sound too much like a reprimand. Not so soon. He took his time, sizing the old man up. There wasn’t much size to him at all. A thin frame, frail shoulders, a wizened face with crisp green eyes glaring at him from behind thick eyeglasses.

‘My apologies, sir,’ James said. ‘But my team and I are just after a meal…’

The old man tapped his walking stick against a sign by the door. James turned his head to glance at it. _No Hawkers, no Dogs and no Mantle bastards._ Well, it certainly didn’t waste words.

‘Sir, the war’s been over for several decades,’ he tried again. ‘Isn’t it time to forgive and forget?’

‘Do my mates get to forgive and forget, kiddo? The ones I buried in Mistral? In Vacuo?’ The man’s fingers tightened around his cane. ‘I don’t serve to Mantle. Or Atlas. Or whatever else you call yourselves these days. We should have bombed you back to the rocks, not invited you to combat tournaments.’

Gloria and Dandelion were both tensed up, Aqua just looked miserable. All James felt was exhaustion.

‘I understand, sir.’

His teammates blinked at him, Dandelion opening his mouth before shutting it after a sharp glare from Aqua. The old man paused as well, doubtless expecting some further tirade or attempt to gain entry. James simply stood quietly, his hands folded behind his back.

‘My friends and I would appreciate a meal, sir,’ James said. ‘But if you feel obligated not to serve us, we understand and respect your decision. But…the war _is_ over, sir.’

‘Yes, well, be that as it may,’ the old man’s scowl faded, but his posture did not slump. ‘There’s other diners. Try the one up the street.’

‘Thank you for your recommendation.’ James nodded at the rest of the team. ‘Let’s go, guys. I’m starved.’

‘Wait!’

The team froze, eyes slowly tracking back to where the old man had placed his cane in front of James’ path. Had he wanted, James might have pushed past him. Yet somehow that was the last thing on his mind.

‘Wait,’ the old man repeated, his eyes fixed on Ironwood. ‘You were that kid. The one in the festival. Your right leg…steel, isn’t it?’

‘More or less.’ It really wasn’t worth going into the dozens of carbon fibre components, circuitry and titanium that made up his right hip and limb.

‘Where’d you lose it, son?’

‘Grimm, sir. Beowolf took it off in Northern Mistral.’

‘Hm.’ The old man hesitated, then reached down to his own left leg. He lifted it up to show the glint of stainless steel. ‘Bayonet wound for me. I got him in the face, but that blade was sharp enough to take off half the leg before I could stop it. Some nights I can still feel the edge.’

 _Just like I can still feel the teeth_. He didn’t say the words, but they still hovered in the air between them. The steel behind the green eyes faded, the jaw unclenching, the fists slowly un-balling.

‘Those were some ballsy moves you pulled in that arena.’ The old man grunted. His cane shifted back to his side, more supporting his weight than being proffered as a threat. ‘Glad I never had to fight you.’

‘I’m glad I never had to fight _you_ , sir,’ James replied. It wasn’t flattery. Any man tough enough to shrug off a traumatic amputation and shoot his opponent square in the face was not someone James wanted to tangle with.

‘Heh, I think you would have done alright. I only weigh about half of that big bastard you punched out.’ The old man chuckled, his previous animosity forgotten as he leaned forward to poke at James’ chest. ‘By the gods, how the hell do they grow you so big up north? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know if you’re sculling down Grimm smoothies.’

‘Sir, I don’t…’

‘Ah, enough with this sir nonsense. I never got above sergeant. I’m Clarence.’

‘James.’

‘Well, get yourself inside, James,’ Clarence pointed the way. ‘You may be a Mantle bastard, but you’re a Mantle bastard that can fight. Your team can come too.’

Gloria and Aqua made to follow him, then paused. James was standing still, his arms folded firmly. Clarence noticed, the old man’s eyes narrowing once again as he mimicked his posture.

‘I don’t want your charity, sir.’

‘Clarence.’

‘Mister Clarence,’ James amended.

‘Well, sonny, I ain’t treating you to nothing. You’ll eat on your own lien and not a penny less.’

‘Be that as it may, I don’t…’

‘Ah, bloody hell, son,’ Clarence sighed. ‘Do you want me to forgive and forget or do you want to argue in the street?’

_Well, when he put it like that…_

-RoAG-

Glynda didn’t mind admitting when she was upset. Emotional honesty was a sign of maturity. Of a steady progression from childhood through adolescence to adulthood. Attempting to repress negative emotions was a certain sign that someone had either never been taught or failed to learn the vital lessons that such feelings had to offer.

It was, of course, important to examine what those emotions were telling her. The things that they said about how happy or sad she might be. Whether or not she was accepting the events occurring around her. Whether she should seek professional help to deal with them.

Those emotions could then be put to their right and proper use. Like bouncing Raven around a corridor, for example. Or slamming her opponent, a fellow Beacon student unfortunately, through three timber walls and over a pond to ring out on the other side.

Colonel Fang made some suitably impressed noises from the commentator’s box and the crowd cheered. Glynda ignored them. She knew exactly what made them cheer and jeer. They were just fine with the Golden Girl of Beacon dismantling her opponents. Who didn’t feel good about applauding a pretty girl wiping the floor the competition without dirtying her fingers? It wasn’t like she had any inconvenient cybernetic parts to give her an advantage, was it?

She advanced on the boy fighting Lapis, triggering a telekinetic plate beneath his legs to send him shooting upwards. The crowd cheered as he went flying. He might have ringed out on that alone if she hadn’t had another one waiting for him ten metres upwards. The crowd cheered as he slammed back down into the arena’s surface.

His aura was still in the yellow. Almost impressive. She didn’t know what impulse made her use her boot instead of her semblance to finish him off, but the crowd cheered that anyway.

They cheered and cheered and cheered. Held up signs. Chanted her name. Waved and blew kisses at her as she stood over her defeated opponents.

Three hours ago she would have smiled graciously, basking in their adoration. Striven to be a good example of a dignified huntress. Now it was all she could do not to flip them off.

She stormed toward the exit, not bothering with the usual bowing and celebrating as the post-match music began to play. She heard Lap’s feet behind her as her teammate chased her down.

‘Ah, G?’ Lapis followed her into the tunnels, needing to lengthen her stride to keep up with Glynda’s rapid paces. ‘Mind telling me what that was about?’

‘What ‘what’ was about?’ Glynda ignored the two reporters waiting just inside. One of them pressed forward, but a flash of green eyes made the woman rapidly about face. But there were still others to come. Fans were already crowding them, more reporters holding out microphones and hoping for a statement of some kind.

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe you just humiliating Sailor and Jerry like they were a couple of first years? Or that thing with the boot? Since when do you kick anyone, let alone when they’re down?’

_‘Glynda! How does it feel to be the up-and-coming champion?’_

_‘Miss Goodwitch? Do you have any comment on being named the two to one favourite to take out the tournament?’_

‘The crowd liked it didn’t they?’ Glynda sidestepped a cluster of cheering fans, ducked under an attempted hug, bypassed three marriage proposals and pirouetted around a guild recruiter. ‘They seem to like everything I do.’

_‘Glynda! Glynda! Will you be signing with the Swans after graduation? Did you hear that they’re prepared to wave their usual field-experience requirements for you?’_

_‘Do you feel nervous about fighting James Ironwood in the quarter finals? Do you have any comment about rumours you’re in a romantic relationship with what some are calling ‘The Atlas Robot’?’_

‘G, don’t…’

She burst into the locker room, resisting the urge to slam the door behind her only out consideration to her partner. Lapis closed and locked the door behind them, heedless of the disappointed groaning coming from their adoring public.

‘Don’t lose your temper at them,’ Lapis begged. Her friend approached slowly, arms spread in a supplicatory gesture as Glynda stripped off her ammo belt and holster and tossed them in a locker. ‘They’re just trying to get their soundbites.’

‘It was disgusting,’ Glynda said. Her fingers, steady as steel during the fighting, now trembled with the need to do something. Preferably something violent. ‘What they’re saying is disgusting.’

‘I know, I know,’ Lapis soothed. ‘Look it’s not him, alright? Atlas unnerves people sometimes. They’ve got all this tech that no one else has or understands, they’re the only kingdom that maintains any kind of standing army…’

‘That doesn’t excuse it!’ Glynda paced the floor, hands running through her hair. She had to get it under control. Not for the cameras, but because if she didn’t she might just go out there and put someone through a wall. ‘That doesn’t excuse any of it! The war’s been over for fifty years and he didn’t fight in it!’

‘Well he’s not exactly doing himself any favours, is he? Walking around with that grimace always on his face like the world’s done him a personal injury. Would it kill him to smile once in a while?’

Glynda scowled at her, but Lapis didn’t flinch away. Instead she folded her arms and glared right back.

‘He’s not like that.’ She forced back the far unkinder things she wanted to say to her friend. ‘He’s not like that at all. James is just under pressure right now. When he relaxes he’s…he’s funny. He’s sweet.’

‘Glynda…honey, you’ve known him for a day…’

She didn’t answer. Sinking back against the locker, she slowly lowered her face into her waiting hands, massaging her temples as the rage and adrenaline faded to the back of her mind. Lapis was right. Of course she was right. It had been a pleasant day, but it was _just_ a day. Why was she so worked up over a boy she barely knew?

‘The way he looked at me,’ she mumbled into her hands. ‘People saying those awful things and he just…just looked at me. I was so surprised that I couldn’t…I cheered for him. I really did. When the headmaster started I…’

Strong arms wrapped around her, Glynda leaning into the embrace as her friend held her tight. That was good, Glynda could hide the frustrated tears leaking from her eyes and splashing onto the other girl’s armour.

‘What if he thinks I’m like the rest of them?’

‘Are you?’

‘No.’

She could almost hear Lapis’ eyes rolling in her skull. ‘Then I suggest you tell him.’

‘What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me?’ Glynda couldn’t explain why that sent such a bolt of fear through her heart. ‘What if I ruined everything by just…’

‘Okay, G, you’re pushing the drama button a little too hard here.’ Lapis flicked her on the nose to emphasise her point. ‘I caught a look at you, you just looked shocked, that’s all. You weren’t sneering or spitting. One thing I can tell you for sure is that if you _don’t_ at least try and tell him, then he’s going to have to assume the worst.’

Glynda buried her head deeper in her friend’s shoulder. ‘Shit.’

‘Indeed,’ Lapis agreed. ‘But, on the plus side, he’s probably out celebrating with his team right now. Catch him when he’s a good mood once he gets back. Who knows? You might even get a kiss on the cheek out of him.’

‘Hey!’

‘Oooh, he might even hold your hand,’ Lapis shuddered. ‘Simply sinful.’

-RoaG-

‘Now, the thing about the fighting in Vacuo.’ Clarence was slurring his words now, the bottle of whiskey on the table down to almost half. ‘The thing about the fighting in Vacuo…what was the thing?’

‘Pink vehicles,’ James reminded him.

‘That’s it!’ Clarence slapped his hand on the table. ‘Pink vehicles. See, when King Osferth called for volunteers for a deep raiding and reconnaissance unit, most of my lads jumped at the chance. Then we turned up for the first day of training to find out His Majesty had provided us with pink sixbies. Uh, a sixby was a multi-terrain vehicle with…’

‘Six wheels,’ James knew his history well enough on that front. ‘What did you think?’

‘I thought His Majesty had gone stark raving mad.’ Clarence giggled. ‘I mean, was he trying to make the Mistralians laugh themselves to death? Hell, even some of the Mantle prisoners we took were confused about it. They thought it was some statement about individuality or loving colour or some tripe like that.’

James nodded along. ‘Instead, it was because pink is harder to see at long range in the desert.’

‘Exactly,’ Clarence lifted his glass in silent salute. ‘We played merry hell behind enemy lines for months before they realised what our game was. His Majesty, rest his soul, always was ten steps ahead of everyone else.’

He finished the slug of whiskey with a sigh. ‘Till Whirlwind Ridge, that is. Bloody Mantle Rangers. Too clever for their own good.’

James looked at Dandelion, the other boy’s face tightening a little. His grandfather had been with the regiment of crack desert fighters that had spearheaded Mantle’s advance into Vacuo. Like most of them, he had died in the final battle at the hands of King Osferth.

‘The strange thing is, if they hadn’t caught us where they did, they might still have been out of place when the main body of First Army marched on Shade…’ Clarence mused. James could almost see the reflection of that night in his eyes, the ambush that had decimated his unit, the bayonet almost slicing clean through his leg. ‘Ah, but war’s full of these things. That day it was me. A week later it was them.’

He lifted his glass. ‘Rest to the fallen, then.’

JAGD lifted their glasses in turn, the strong liquor making Aqua cough furiously and Dandelion turning slightly pink at the taste. They made it through their glasses, though. Clarence gave them a satisfied nod when they were done.

‘Well, who would have thought, guys?’ The old man glanced toward the black and white photo on the wall, where seven young men and women stood in crisp uniforms with wide smiles. ‘There are some ladies and gentlemen in Mantle after all.’

He looked back at the table, the harshness on his features having been eased by the liquor and the lengthy conversation they’d shared. Plates were piled high in the centre of the table, JAGD’s appetite having been whetted by combat and victory. Clarence’s wife, a matronly woman with frizzy grey hair, was even now barrelling toward them with bowls piled high with pudding.

‘ ‘Ere ya go, my loves. Best Vale sticky date pudding with caramel sauce.’ She ruffled Aqua’s hair as she set down her portion. As touchy as the girl was about her personal space, James half expected her to shy away from the contact.

Instead, Aqua beamed up at Mrs Steele. A moment later the short girl shot up out of her chair and planted a kiss on the old woman’s cheek. Gloria laughed on reflex, but all James could do was blink in shock.

‘Oof, cheeky young thing.’ Mrs Steele bumped her on the shoulder. ‘Now eat up. You’re naught but skin and bone. I’ve half a mind to keep you all here after the festival and fatten you up on good Vale cooking.’

Their silence was their flattery, all four JAGD tucking into steaming pudding as Mr and Mrs Steele smiled at them indulgently. That was until Clarence suddenly turned to his wife with a hurt expression.

‘Hey, where’s my portion?’

‘You, my love, have already finished off half a bottle of single malt.’ His wife waved a reproving finger. ‘You might not care about your blood pressure, but I do.’

‘This is what I get for marrying a medic.’

‘Unending joy and happiness?’

‘Exactly.’ He wrapped an arm around her waist, patting her hip with easy familiarity. James couldn’t help but envy it a little. What would it be like to have someone like that? Someone you were so completely at your ease with?

‘Big pushover, he is.’ Mrs Steele scruffed her husband’s hair, the old man enduring it with patient affection. ‘Goes on and on about he wants nothing to do with Mantle, then you four fine young people show up and he rolls out the red carpet.’

‘Bundy…’

‘Let you in on a little secret, darlings,’ she leaned in close. ‘There’s nothing old soldiers like doing better than jabbering on about past battles to young soldiers. And since Vale doesn’t have an army, you’ve made him happy as a lamb that he’s finally got someone to share his stories with.’

Clarence gave his wife a weary look but did not deny it.

‘Now, we’ve a dinner rush to prepare for.’ She patted Clarence meaningfully. ‘And this old soldier needs to wage a war on the accounting books before tax season finishes.’

‘Nothing but work, always,’ Clarence groaned, but he made to rise. Dandelion shot to his side, the blond huntsman extending an arm for Clarence to pull himself up.

‘Thank you, lad.’

‘And thank you for your hospitality, sir.’ James rose, the rest of his team following by example. Clarence straightened on reflex, meeting each of their eyes in turn before giving a satisfied nod.

‘Some real ladies and gentlemen in Mantle.’

Aqua waited until he had shuffled off before she leaned over the table. ‘So tell me, did that all just happen?’

‘Well, Colonel Fang did say that all soldiers speak a common language.’ Dandy’s hand strayed back to his whiskey glass. ‘In our case, it just so happened that the specific dialect was Jimmy’s.’

‘Colonel Fang also said we weren’t supposed to drink.’ Gloria gave a disapproving frown at the empty glasses in front of them.

‘Oh lighten up,’ Aqua leaned in to bump her her teammate in the ribs. She’d drunk less than all of them, but the bright pink of her cheeks showed the far steeper effects on her slight frame. ‘We’re all old enough to legally drink.’

‘Yeah, and old enough to be marched up and down the drill square if she catches us disobeying an order.’ They all shuddered at the thought.

James set the cap back in the bottle. ‘Maybe stick with waters for a little bit?’

‘Agreed,’ Gloria took custody of the bottle and set it on the trolley behind her. Aqua and Dandelion both tracked it with thirsty eyes. ‘In the meantime, we’ve got important team business to discuss.’

‘Where to keep this party going?’

Once more James had to re-examine Aqua. How had he read her so wrong for so long? Admittedly he hadn’t known her before they were all chucked onto JAGD, but how could he have just assumed she was quiet and shy and perhaps a little anti-social? During the course of their lunch, even before Clarence had produced the bottle, she’d been chatty and smiling. She had an arm slung around Dandelion’s shoulders.

It was like she’d kept her true self under lock and key for the entire year they’d been working together.

_Because she didn’t feel safe enough to show it._

His team. His responsibility. It gnawed at him, but he refused to let it show. From now on he would make sure that Aqua felt welcome and safe. That all of them did.

Gloria tapped her glass, bringing all eyes back to her. ‘So. Now that we’ve celebrated our last _two_ wins, I think we should talk about tomorrow. I think James should fight.’

Yesterday, Dandelion might have snapped something pithy and Aqua would have rolled her eyes. Now? Both of them looked at her with something akin to respectful thoughtfulness.

‘Why?’ Aqua said it first. ‘I get that we’re all trying to…get past some stuff. But you’re still our best fighter.’

‘Even if you are a bit of an ass about it,’ Dandelion added. ‘No offence.’

Gloria nodded, both at the compliment and the modifier. ‘Look, I’m not trying to throw myself on my sword here. But let’s not shy away from this. We won that last one because of you.’

‘You did just as much fighting as I…’

‘They were ready for me.’

James paused. He’d half noted it himself, but it hadn’t seemed like a good time to bring it up. From the look on her face, Gloria knew what he’d been thinking. She’d simply beaten him to the punch.

‘They were ready and waiting with a battle plan to target me and me specifically.’ Gloria folded her arms across her chest, her eyes closing briefly as her head twitched. She might have been recalling her knockout, or the beatdown she’d received inside the jungle itself. ‘No offence, James, but I think half the reason we won was because you barely registered as a threat to them.’

‘None taken, I was thinking something similar.’

‘So,’ Gloria leaned forward, eyes flashing with sudden intent. ‘Let’s use it against them.’

‘Use what?’ Aqua said.

‘Their own planning.’ Gloria nodded to the walls around them. ‘You remember what Colonel Fang said about the old Mantle military? About how they went in with a plan all the time and kept trying to fight that plan instead of fighting the enemy? Well, for a lot of these guys I’d say that’s what they’re doing now. Hell, we did it in the competitive circuit as well. Study our opponents, get an understanding of what their semblances and fighting styles were, then train how to defeat them. But they don’t know how to beat you, James.’

‘Shouldn’t take them long. I don’t even have a weapon.’

Gloria leaned over to rap him on the knuckles. ‘Stop deflecting. You can get a better one off the airship. Right now you’ve got something better than a weapon. You’ve got surprise and fear.’

Dandy raised his hand. ‘Those are two…’

‘Fine, two things!’ Gloria waved him off. ‘My point is, they haven’t prepared for you. They barely knew you existed. And all of sudden you’re now on their radar. You’ve got a cybernetic limb they don’t know the full capacity of. Right now they’re probably re-watching footage of the last few fights and wondering: _Who is James Ironwood? And should I be afraid of him?_ ’

Aqua picked it up first. ‘You want to make sure that the answer is yes?’

Gloria nodded, pushing her scroll across the table. The footage from the two on two was several hours old now, but the comments were still pouring in like the floodgates had only just unlocked. Some complimentary, a lot less so, but all of them usually mentioning his leg in one way or another.

‘I think we’re all agreed that what they’re saying is pretty damn insulting. But I think you’ve struck a nerve. What if we keep striking it? James Ironwood, the Killer Cyborg.’

Aqua frowned and she wasn’t alone. ‘That’s a bit much.’

‘Not if they already half believe it. Think about it. A new weapon, a bit of a uniform change, play on their own fears and prejudices. Become more than just a man to them.’

James could see where she was headed. ‘Become everything they fear about Atlas.’

There was silence, each of them digesting it in their own way. Aqua shocked him by being the first to speak.

‘I don’t like it.’ She stated it plainly, like it was an obvious fact. ‘We shouldn’t be trying to play mind games like this. It’s not the Atlas way.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Dandelion countered. ‘The Atlas way is using whatever weapon you need to win. Fear and deception can be weapons.’

‘Sure, in warfare.’ Aqua folded her arms defiantly. ‘This is a competition. We should be trying to win it fairly.’

‘Playing up a reputation isn’t being unfair. It’s just psych-warfare. Everyone’s doing it.’

‘Just because everyone’s doing it doesn’t mean we should.’ Aqua looked back to James. ‘Besides, what if it doesn’t work? Then we’ve just made James look worse for no reason. We should…’

‘I’ll do it.’

Aqua froze, her eyes tracking back to him with surprise and…hurt? ‘James, don’t feel you have to…’

‘It’s not that.’ ‘The truth is, I’m just one guy with one gun. Not even that at the moment. If I do fight, I need some kind of advantage.’

Aqua shook her head so quickly her face blurred. She jabbed herself in the head with her forefinger. ‘No! This is your advantage!’

Her finger dropped to her heart. ‘And this.’

‘Maybe that worked in the doubles, when I could use the environment against them. But you know what the singles are. It’s a fifty by fifty metre ring. No terrain to hide in. No buildings to drop on anyone. I can’t think how I could…’

‘Then you’re not thinking hard enough!’ Aqua bit her lip, realising how loud she’d been. ‘People don’t like you already. If you try and paint yourself as some kind of unstoppable cyborg then you’re just playing into your hands. We should be trying to get the crowd onside, not piss them off.’

James pressed his hands to his face, sighing heavily at her words. ‘Yeah but if it’s worth it then…’

‘It’s not, it’s just…’

‘It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?’ James lifted his eyes to meet hers. The shock of the victory, of his exposure, had all worn off. In its place was something…unfamiliar. Something he hadn’t tasted in a long time. And now that he’d savoured it again, he realised just how hungry he’d been for it. ‘This could be it, couldn’t it? JAGD could be the team that brings home the title. The glory.’

‘Did you want to become a huntsman for the glory?’

He flinched at the accusation. Gloria sat up a little straighter.

‘That’s a bit unfair.’ The taller girl was frowning. She’d been a champion for longer than any of them had seriously trained. ‘The Vytal Festival is there to drive us harder and further. Ten years from now people aren’t going to remember the tactics, the weapons used or the clothes that were worn. They’ll just remember who won and who lost. Ironwood and JAGD could go down in history as the ones who took the trophy against all odds.’

‘I just don’t want us to win if the cost is us making James look like some kind of cyborg monster.’ Aqua looked to Dandelion, as if pleading for his support. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes shifting awkwardly.

‘I mean…if Jimmy’s okay with it…and what’s it really going to be, anyway? A bit of a costume change? He shows a bit of leg? Who knows, maybe it’ll actually boost his popularity?’

Aqua’s lips tightened. ‘Well…if that’s the team’s decision then I guess I’m in as well.’

She pushed her chair back, fishing her uniform jacket and beanie down from her feet.

‘You haven’t finished your pudding.’ Dandy protested.

‘I’m not hungry.’ She hid her face away from them. ‘I’ll see you guys back at Beacon. Just…’

‘Aqua? Aqua Reev?’

The team twisted in their seats, eyes flying to the door where four girls in Haven uniforms had just entered the restaurant. Three of them were unfamiliar faces. But there was no mistaking the one who had spoken. After all, it wasn’t every day that Colonel Fang drummed three-quarters of a second year team out of Atlas Academy. There was no forgetting the face of the ringleader.

And it _was_ a familiar face. Hair styled differently. A light scar that traced down the side of her neck. But otherwise an identical face to Aqua’s, save for the sickly-sweet grin now spreading across her lips. Certainly Aqua had never born such a distinctive resemblance to a crocodile.

‘So good to see you, Aqua.’ Dahlia Reev approached the table with her arms held wide. ‘And how is my little sister these days?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much action in this one I'm afraid, but I hope it's none the poorer for it. I'm also hoping I wasn't too heavy handed with the foreshadowing of Aqua's sister showing up. Dahlia is a case of a character suddenly popping into my head that I previously had no intention of putting in the story, but for some damn reason she seemed to just fit the plot I had going forward.
> 
> Anyways, I'm having a few weeks off at the moment so hopefully these updates should come a little quicker for a while.


	9. Drummed Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JAGD face the consequences of a drunken brawl. Atlesian discipline was a harsh master. Not all have the strength to face it.
> 
> An assassin arrives in pursuit of Lionheart. But in the heart Vale, who is the predator and who is the prey?

_‘Battalion! Atteeeeeen-shun!’_

_Ironwood’s heels clicked together, the noise lost amongst the gunshot-like cadence of the academy student-body moving in perfect unison. Nearly three hundred students and instructors, arrayed into five cadet companies, stood on the main parade ground before the entrance to Atlas Academy. Full dress uniforms. Full attendance._

_Colonel Esmeralda Fang stood on the dais overlooking the square, her white and blue uniform sharply creased, greatcoat fastened at the waist with a heavy leather belt. Her peaked cap was pulled low over her eyes, but it did little to hide the anger burning in them. Her mood had taken over the other academy staff in turn. Lieutenant Colonel Daley, the Chief Instructor, was doing an even worse job of concealing his rage._

_The Senior Instructors of each year also stood by. Three majors and one captain. There was reason for the discrepancy in rank. According to Tommy Ale in Beowolf Company, Major Squire had been escorted from the Academy grounds by the military police the night before. The former senior instructor of second year had not been wearing his rank insignia._

_Ironwood shivered despite the weight of his own greatcoat. It was bitterly cold, not uncommon even with the heating systems at maximum efficiency, but there was precious little to stiffen any of them against the chill. Not for such a grim purpose as this._

_No one was spared attendance. Even the infirmary had been emptied, and those too sick or injured to attend in person were watching the entire thing by scroll-link. No one would miss this. It would defeat the purpose._

_‘Cadets!’ Colonel Fang’s voice snapped Ironwood back to reality. The Old Lady was normally so relaxed, so jovial, that it took a moment to remember that this was indeed the same woman. Hair in regulation style, uniform neatly fastened, the ribbon bar on her left breast a reminder to all that she was indeed a soldier first and foremost. ‘Students and staff of Atlas Academy. You have been summoned here today for a grave purpose. One that I hoped never to preside over whilst I serve as headmistress. Sergeant Major Becker! March them out!’_

_‘Ma’am!’ The diminutive man offered a salute, then turned sharply to the left. ‘Escort party! Take post!’_

_The drums beat a solemn tattoo as three cadets, two girls and a boy, were marched out from the side between an escort of eight military police. All of them armed. All of them in combat armour. The grim display might have been excessive for some, but not for the people in their custody._

_‘Bloody hell,’ a voice to his right whispered. ‘That’s Dahlia Reev.’_

-RoAG-

‘What? No words for your old classmate? Gotta say, I’m a little bit hurt.’

James had always found her smile to be the most unnerving part of the day. The two teammates that had been marched out with her had been fearful, one had even broken down sobbing as Colonel Fang read out the charges for which they had been found guilty. But not Dahlia. The elder Reev twin had been smirking the entire time.

The same one she currently wore.

‘Dahlia.’ Dandelion was the first to regain his voice. He leaned back in his chair, a thin smile on his lips. ‘What’s it been? A whole year since the Old Lady tossed you out on your ass?’

‘Hmm, a little less than that.’ Dahlia cocked her head. ‘I thought you were meant to be the smart one. Wasn’t that the reason you got to stay when they booted the rest of your team?’

Dandelion’s smile disappeared. ‘They only got sent back a year.’

‘Still, hell of a black mark.’

‘There’s blacker,’ Gloria cut in. She hadn’t attempted to smile at all. Her expression was almost murderous. ‘Like sabotaging a fellow student’s weapon before a live-fire patrol.’

‘Hmm, I would have been doing him a favour.’ Reaching over, Dahlia snagged the bottle of whiskey off the table. Gloria made to go after her, but stopped as James grabbed her arm. ‘You too, really. It was damaging your brand, always hanging out with a faunus.’

‘I don’t give a shit about my brand.’

‘Yeah, judging by your performance up in Amity I could have guessed that myself.’

James’ grip tightened. Gloria switched her glare to him, but he shook his head. Colonel Fang’s standing orders were ironclad in that regard. Any Atlas student who picked a fight outside of training or the tournament was in for a whole world of pain. That excess energy was liable to be worked out on the drill square. He hoped his own stare probably conveyed that.

‘Dahlia…’ Aqua finally spoke. She hadn’t sat down again. Rather she stood to the side, Dandelion and his chair half between her and her sister. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘Is it?’ The smile she gave Aqua was utterly devoid of any kind of warmth. ‘I was home for mid-term holidays, you could have seen me then.’

Aqua didn’t answer. Dahlia snorted. ‘Oh, that’s right. You haven’t gone home to see Mom and Dad either.’

‘All Mom does is yell at me for…’

‘For selling me out to Fang? Yeah, I wonder why? Still, I do owe you some thanks. Haven’s a lot less uptight than Atlas ever was. Didn’t realise how much I hated all the military trimmings until they were gone.’

‘Oh, I quite like some of them,’ Gloria said. Ironwood glanced at her, tensed in case he needed to tackle her again. ‘That one where they drummed you out? Marched you past the companies in extended line so we could turn our backs on you? That was a real good one. Still, I guess Mistral would be a great fit for a racist with a height complex.’

Dahlia giggled. ‘Silly me. I guess I missed where Atlas is some kind of bastion for faunus rights?’

‘We were supposed to be better.’ Their eyes shot back to Aqua. Her fists clenched tight, she raised her eyes to meet her sister. ‘We were supposed to be huntresses. Standing united with our comrades, no matter their origin. You disgraced us. You _shamed_ us.’

Dahlia’s pace toward her saw Dandelion shoot up out of his chair, his fists half-raised. Gloria and James followed suit, Gloria seemingly ready to leap across the table at a moment’s notice. Dahlia halted, a scowl briefly crossing her face.

‘You’re very brave when you’ve got someone around to protect you.’

‘Get out.’ James growled.

‘I’ve got a right to be here,’ Dahlia didn’t deign to look at him. ‘Come on, A. Where’s that spine from before? Come to think of it, where was that spine for all of last year? You didn’t mind us having some fun with Colt then. Even threw a few kicks yourself…’

‘I said _get out_.’ James pushed his chair back and stepped clear of the table. ‘Any problems you have with us, you can settle them in the ring.’

‘I don’t know if I should wait till then. Odds are Gloria will be knocked out tomorrow if past performance is anything to go by.’

‘You won’t be fighting Gloria.’

Dahlia looked back to him, eyeing him quickly before she let out a peel of mocking laughter. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think I’d feel comfortable beating up a cripple.’

Gloria’s fist was fast. Somehow Dahlia was faster.

-RoAG-

Zahra could feel the eyes on her as soon as she stepped off the train. The surveillance wasn’t unexpected, particularly since Lionheart had already caught one of their sisters. It had been a long shot, attempting to end Lionheart before he could make his report to the Great Deceiver. It had cost them the element of surprise.

She didn’t know where the observer was for certain. There could have been multiple. Vale was a city of narrow streets and tall buildings, and despite her civilian clothes she was fine with admitting that she stood out. She had to get off the streets and shake her tail before heading back to the hideout. Then they could begin their search for Lionheart.

To minimise the chances of detection, Zahra had chosen multiple different avenues of approach into the city. Some had come in by airship, others by the canal. Fiera and a few others had even hiked in over the mountains.

Zahra herself had chosen the train. Not merely for the comfort, though it was a factor, but also because the train terminal was the most crowded of all the transit zones. Anonymity was her best defence. What was one more face in the crowd compared to the thousands assembled for the Vytal Festival and all that…

Instinct saved her. Instinct drummed into her by a lifetime of training. When one had to constantly be on their guard against surprise attacks by a training sister, a certain sixth sense began to develop.

Her hand snapped out behind her. Her aura she focused around the small of her back. Strangely, her last hope was that her assailant was a professional. An amateur would just go straight for her throat.

She felt the impact just above her right kidney as a hand gripped her left shoulder. Aura blocked the strike directly, but the knifeman was no fool. His attack followed through, skating downward until it found a point of entry. Steel bit into her hip, grating to a halt as she finally caught the wrist holding the knife.

‘Did you think it would be that easy?’ She snarled. Twisting away, she brought both hands down to control the knife. She shifted aura downwards, trying to stem the flow of blood as the blade came free. It hadn’t gone deep, but if it had nicked an artery she’d be in deep trouble. It brought her face to face with the attacker.

Lionheart’s grin stared back at her. ‘Well, you could hardly blame me for trying.’

His grip shifted, the stiletto edge of the dagger having tipped dangerously back toward him. ‘Easy now. No need to take it personally.’

‘I rarely take someone trying to kill me as anything but personal,’ she grunted in reply. ‘I must say, this is more dishonourable behaviour than I had expected from a huntsman.’

‘Well, what can I say? A knife in the back works just as well as a punch to the face.’

‘Quite so.’ She managed a smile, it quickly faded as the knife tipped back toward her. ‘Hoping to settle things here and now, then?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ Lionheart smacked his fist into the underside of the knife. It jolted up, but once more failed to pierce her aura. ‘I don’t suppose you could surrender? Save me the trouble of killing you?’

‘Hmm…would you if our positions were reversed?’

‘No, but then your prison facilities were much less comfortable than ours.’

‘A sight less so now that you burned them down.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re still sore about that? It was weeks ago.’

‘Perhaps we could bury the hatchet,’ Zahra gritted, ‘if you’d just let me have the knife.’

‘Alright then.’

Before she could register the words, Lionheart suddenly released the knife into her hands and stepped smartly back. She stepped forward to pursue, but he had chosen his moment well. A crowd of tourists passed between them, chatting animatedly as they stared and pointed up at Amity Colosseum. On the other side of the crowd, Lionheart’s grin had turned mocking.

‘Well, I suppose we shall have to part ways for now.’ He waved politely. ‘If you could drop that off somewhere? It’s a good knife and I’d like it back.’

The barest self-restraint stopped her from slinging it back at him. Restraint, and the multiple police patrols and huntsmen standing around the terminus. Zahra forced a smile at her target, slipping the knife inside her coat.

‘I’ll be sure and return it to you later.’

‘Would you be so kind? I must be off! I’ll be late for dinner back at Beacon if I don’t hurry. Ta ta!’

It was as if he vanished on the spot. One moment he was there, the next he’d simply been absorbed by the crowd. Zahra blinked for a few moments, her mind not quite registering what her eyes had seen.

Was that it? Was he just going to show up, attempt to stab her and then vanish? Was he _toying_ with her? There was bravery and then there was outright insanity. The overconfidence would have been breath-taking and yet…was it? Lionheart knew the ground. He had allies in the city. And he knew what she looked like.

Had she led her sisters into a lion’s den without a torch?

-RoAG-

James Ironwood was no novice in military history. He had studied the great battles of Atlas and Mantle before it. He had poured over his books in childish delight as they described in detail how General Mountcastle had outmanoeuvred the King of Vale at the Battle of Flooded Fields. Or how Admiral Renard had outwitted the Vacuans by landing her marines in a tidal river to seize key supply lines. Most of the battles had been won by his kingdom.

He’d been about twelve when it suddenly occurred to him. If most of the battles had been won by Mantle, then how had they lost the war?

His father had provided the answer.

‘Bad strategy,’ Dad said, a wry grin on his craggy features. ‘We got so used to winning that we forgot that we _could_ lose.’

The lesson had been clear. There were some battle you just didn’t fight.

As he went sailing through the front window of the restaurant, James wished he’d taken that lesson a little bit closer to heart.

Particularly when Dandelion landed on top of him.

‘She’s faster than I remember,’ the boy groaned.

‘Stronger, too,’ James agreed. ‘How’s Gloria doing?’

‘Not great.’

Gloria landed on top of both of them a moment later. Dandelion grunted. James would forever deny that he himself squeaked as the air was forced out of him.

Gloria pushed her self back to her feet, efficiently loosening the ties and clips of her uniform. ‘Alright, so she’s been training.’

‘Quite.’

‘So,’ Gloria pulled both of them back to their feet. ‘What’s our battle plan?’

James looked back inside the diner. Dahlia was staring back at him, not one hair out of place despite trading blows with all three of them. Her own team was standing off to the side, faces as smug as their leader. Aqua stood opposite, her face screwed tight as she looked between him and Dahlia.

‘Battle plan,’ he grunted, ‘we put her on the ground and we kick the hell out of her.’

‘Works for me.’ Gloria made to vault back inside. She froze as she heard the racking of a shotgun.

‘Oi!’ Clarence stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a lever-action resting in his hands. ‘You lot take it outside.’

‘Terribly sorry, sir,’ Dahlia’s contrition sounded sincere. James might have even believed it were it coming from someone else. ‘These Atlas thugs just attacked us with no warning.’

Clarence cocked his head, glancing at James then back to the boys and girls in Haven uniforms. ‘You’d be from Mistral, then?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Pfft. Mantle may have been bastards, but Mistral were just snivelling cowards.’ He gestured at the door. ‘Beat the tar out of them, James!’

‘Please stop this, all of you, stop it!’ Aqua tried to grab Dahlia’s sleeve as she made for the door. Her sister shrugged her off without stopping.

‘You know I kind of prefer it this way?’ Dahlia unzipped the front of her uniform, turning toward the three of them with her shoulders squared. Her team hung back, amused smiles on their faces. ‘You all turned your backs on me. Doesn’t feel right beating just one of you in the ring.’

‘You’ll have to fight every Atlas student here then.’ Dandelion stepped to her left, Gloria to her right. ‘We all think you’re a stain on our reputation.’

Whatever good humour she’d been affecting dried up like it was summer in Vacuo. ‘I can guarantee you that half the cadets on that parade ground didn’t give a damn what I did to that mongrel. Hell, some of them would have joined in if I gave them the chance.’

‘Good,’ Ironwood said. He shifted his weight onto his right leg, ready to snap a kick out the second she made a move. ‘Maybe the Old Lady couldn’t root out every racist in the corps. But all those people you think supported you? Not one of them ever spoke in your defence. I’m pretty sure some of your old crew went and found Colt afterwards. Couldn’t disown you fast enough.’

‘Shut your mouth, tin man.’

‘It’s pretty simple, isn’t it? We all joined up to be huntsmen. We didn’t join up to be the trash that got drummed out in disgrace.’

James threw his kick as soon as he saw her move. But angry didn’t mean slow or sloppy. Dahlia slipped past the kick like he’d given her written notice it was coming. A moment later he was flat on his back, Dandelion joining him a moment later with a groan.

‘I think…she might be working some things out…’

James didn’t bother replying, climbing back to his feet. Lips parted in a snarl, he made to dive forward into the tangle between Dahlia and Gloria. Despite his soreness from the morning’s fight, he suddenly found himself with more than enough to energy to spare.

‘Vale Police! Stand down!’

He froze. So did Dandy and Gloria. Dahlia threw one last punch, the hit smacking against Gloria’s aura with a dull thud.

‘I said stand down!’ The first of the uniformed patrolmen pushed both of them apart. Despite the blue uniform and the half-cape on his left shoulder, the man’s skin shimmered with an activated aura. Likewise the patrolmen around him, some of whom were now drawing stun batons from their sides.

Gloria wiped blood away from the corner of her mouth, still glaring daggers at Dahlia. ‘It’s just a fight.’

‘Uh huh, well leaving the property damage aside, brawls on the streets between hunters-in-training isn’t permitted here anymore than in Atlas.’ The patrolman’s stance made it clear he wasn’t budging. ‘If you really want to force this issue, you can do it at the station. Otherwise I’m happy to let your chaperones sort it out.’

Both Haven and Atlas students dropped their eyes. The patrolman grunted. ‘Good. Flip, you take the Haven mob, I’ll take this lot. Separate ferries back to Beacon. Try and keep it discrete.’

‘Gotcha.’ His partner tapped Dahlia on the shoulder. ‘Alright, all of you with me. Come on, leave it.’

‘James?’ Clarence was leaning out of the shattered window, a broom and dustpan in his hand. ‘Give ‘em hell out there, lad. Remember what I told you, duck and weave.’

Despite the warning shove from the patrolman, James nodded back. ‘I’ll remember.’

‘See that you do.’ Clarence tapped the side of his head. ‘I’ll be watching.’

-RoAG-

The Mistral chaperone, a tall man with a sour expression, was waiting to collect his charges as the ferries landed. He whisked them away from the patrolmen immediately, muttering his apologies and promising swift payment of any fines that had been incurred.

Colonel Fang was not waiting for them on landing, but James could see her. Her pace was slow. Deliberate. He recognised it well. It was the long stride of a predator right before a feeding frenzy. And Professor Ozpin walked with her.

The weather had turned sour faster than expected, a light drizzle that had started over the sound had become a steady beat soaking through the thick fabric of their uniforms. The sun had vanished over the horizon, Beacon now illuminated by the lights of the school and the occasional flash of lightning. Part of him wanted to usher the team under cover before they received their tongue lashing. A quick glance at the Old Lady’s eyes told him that was not a good idea.

‘Team JAGD, stand fast!’ He called. In a line of four, himself on the furthest right, they came sharply to attention. He offered the Colonel a crisp salute. ‘Team accounted for, ma’am!’

‘So I see.’ Fang returned the salute, staring at each of them in turn before her eyes snapped back to him.

He braced, unable to stop a shiver from the chill of the water. Fang stepped forward, eyes narrowed to slits as she stared him down. There were so few people who eclipsed him for height. He’d forgotten what it was like to have to look up at someone.

‘Cadet Ironwood. You allowed your team to drink against orders. You brawled with a Mistral team _in public_ against orders. You’ve brought discredit on your uniform and your kingdom. What’s your excuse?’

He refused to allow his gaze to waver. ‘I have none, ma’am. The fault is mine alone, my team…’

‘Your team is a reflection of you!’ She barked. ‘Where you lead, they follow. And you have led them poorly.’

Gloria snapped upright. ‘Ma’am, if you’d heard the way that girl was running her mouth…’

‘People run their mouths every damned day, Cadet. I don’t care if she was talking about Atlas, your team or whatever dye you use in your hair, but you are _not_ entitled to start throwing punches over it.’

‘But ma’am we were backing up a teammate!’

‘Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.’

Gloria’s mouth snapped shut. Colonel Fang looked at all of them, her gaze unforgiving.

‘You are not children on the playground, that can respond to petty taunts with closed fists. You are aspiring to become huntsmen and huntresses. You are blessed with abilities and training that in the wrong hands can inflict terrible abuses. And since you cannot hold yourselves accountable as soldiers, then I will discipline you like children.’

She took a deep breath, as if composing herself in front of the captain and Ozpin. ‘You are all dismissed to your dorms. You are to remain in those dorms until it is time to return to Atlas.’

Aqua looked like she’d been skewered through the core. ‘But we’ll miss the tournament. The dance…’

Fang ignored her. ‘By that time you are to each have a five thousand word essay ready for my review. The subject will be a historical battle of your choice. The theme I wish you to explore is leadership. How it can lead to victory. How lack of it can lead to disaster. Ironwood, you stay here.’

James expected all of them to scatter as fast as they could to get out of the colonel’s line of sight. Instead they froze, heads tilting toward him as if seeking his confirmation of their orders.

‘I said dismissed, cadets!’

He nodded, his teammates taking off for the dorms at a quick jog. Doubtless they were just as eager for a shower and a change of uniform as he was.

‘Cadet Ironwood, I don’t believe in keeping any soldier waiting for their punishment, so I will be up front about yours.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

‘You will write a formal letter of apology to Haven Academy for your team’s assault.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘You will write another to the Vale Council for disturbing the peace.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘You may fight in your singles round tomorrow, but other than that you will obey the same detention as your team.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ All in all, it was a fairly light punishment. He foresaw a lot of writing in his future, but at least it wasn’t a…

‘And once we return to Atlas, you will sit a Board of Studies consisting of myself, the Chief Instructor and the Senior Instructors. Where we shall determine if you are fit to continue studying at Atlas Academy.’

She might as well have kicked him in the stomach. James froze, unable to stop the dismay spreading over his face. Part of him saw the consternation on Ozpin’s face and hoped that the man would jump in. Save him, somehow. No…no, he had to save himself.

‘It was just a fight, ma’am. I’m…’

‘Save it for the BOS, Cadet,’ Fang cut him short. ‘Now, get some sleep. I won’t make you fight tired. I’ve made enough mistakes with you. The biggest was giving you this team. Dismissed, Ironwood.’

-RoAG-

Ironwood didn’t move. For a moment Ozpin wondered if it was because he was too shocked. No…that light in his eyes wasn’t shock. It was the light from this morning, when the boy had nearly drawn on Gloria Kyle.

‘Why did you give me this team, ma’am?’ Ironwood’s fists were clenched by his side, his eye fixed on the ground in front of him. ‘If you never thought I could handle it then why bother making me its leader?’

Esma’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t chew him out like Oz expected. ‘I obviously believed you could, otherwise I wouldn’t have…’

‘Every success we’ve ever had. Training. Passing the qualifiers. Our first victory. Our second.’ His eyes raised, brimming with frustrated tears. ‘You never so much as gave us a word of praise. A moment of encouragement. But whenever we mess up, you’re right there. Breaking us down.’

‘Cadet, I suggest you get yourself under your control before you…’

‘I can understand holding a grudge against me. I know what I did. How I failed.’ Ironwood took a step forward. ‘But you don’t have the right to keep taking it out on my team.’

‘Are you saying you didn’t violate orders tonight, cadet?’ Esma’s voice was low. Dangerously so. Oz took his weight off his cane, shifting onto the balls of his feet almost on reflex.

‘I’m asking you to stop punishing my team because you hate me.’

Esma froze. ‘What did you say?’

‘Do you wish it was me?’ The boy stuttered over the words. ‘I wish it was me too. Every day I wake up and wish I could change places with them but…’

_‘Enough!’_

Ironwood finally fell silent. Oz wasn’t sure who was more shocked, Esma or the boy. Whatever stoicism either had left was gone, wild eyes staring at each other as both struggled to get their breath back under control.

‘You are dismissed, Cadet.’ Esma didn’t stay to see him leave. Rather, she moved back toward the teacher’s dormitories at pace, what few intrepid souls there were still wandering the grounds scattering at her approach.

Oz looked back to James. He reached out on instinct, seeking to offer comfort if he could. But the boy recoiled away from him, eyes blank of emotion as his face fell back into disciplined calm. Atlesian calm.

‘If you will excuse me, sir. My commander’s given me my orders. I must obey.’

James began his walk toward the dormitories. He walked not with the crisp stride of a soldier, rather the broken stagger of a defeated man.

_‘So,’ Osferth chirped up. ‘How exactly are you planning on meddling your way out of this one?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'drumming out' that is referenced is an old school punishment that I believe was still used in certain circumstances as recently as the 90s. A thief, bully or anyone who had acted in such a manner that brought disgrace to the unit would be escorted through a gauntlet of the unit's members with the battalion drummers marching behind, with each soldier turning their back on them as they passed. Fairly brutal, but I'm led to understand it helped suppress similar behaviour.


End file.
